It's a Slaughterful Life
by jbwarner86
Summary: The holiday season approaches. Sugar Rush is saved. Ralph is back home in the arcade, safe and sound, and Vanellope is off on her own to pursue her dream of happiness and freedom. Sure, it's tough for friends to be apart at Christmas, but everything worked out for the best...right?
1. Chapter 1

"Tag, you're it, no tagbacks!"

Adorabeezle Winterpop sprinted away, laughing gleefully, leaving Minty Zaki frozen in her tracks. Her giggles bounced in the air, colliding with the cacophonous merry din of twelve other racers as they transformed the yard next to Niceland Apartments into the biggest game of Freeze Tag that Litwak's Arcade had ever seen. Half the kids tore wildly around the 8-bit grass, their boots kicking up pixelized chunks of earth as they ran; the other half stood frozen, arms outstretched, trying to muffle their laughter and remain perfectly still at the same time.

And in the middle of the playful melee were Fix-It Felix Jr. and Sgt. Tamora Jean Calhoun, both of them trying their best to keep up with the sugar-hopped crowd around them. It had been Felix's idea to instigate the game, allowing the racers to burn off all the excess energy they'd built up from staying inside the apartment all day. While Q-bert and his buddies kept gamers entertained with their dynamite-blasting bonus level, Felix and Calhoun had spent the better part of the last 24 hours trying to put a rein on the _Sugar Rush_ racers' enthusiasm for mayhem. Finally realizing the best method was to just let the kids tire themselves out, Felix had turned them loose in the side yard and encouraged everyone to have some good clean fun.

 _Gee whillikers,_ Felix thought as he leapt into the air, narrowly dodging a tag from Taffyta Muttonfudge, _this parenting jazz isn't so hard after all!_

Just then, a shriek rent the air. Not a playful yelp, but a distressed cry.

"Swizzle, that's _not fair!_ Gimme back my candle!"

"Gotta catch me first! Oh, that's right - you _can't!_ Ha ha!"

Felix and Calhoun whirled around. Swizzle Malarkey was running full tilt across the yard, smirking triumphantly, with a small pink wax candle clutched in one of his tiny fists. He'd just snatched it off the top of Candlehead's hat. Candlehead herself was still frozen in place, as per the rules of the game, but her face was flush with vexation. Tears were already welling in her eyes.

Calhoun darted in front of Swizzle's path, armor-clad arms crossed. She glared sternly at the boy as he stopped dead in his tracks with wide apprehensive eyes.

"Swizzle," she said in her stern contralto that always meant business, "tell me what we discussed earlier about stealing?"

The game ground to a halt as the other racers glared at the scene before them. It looked for sure like someone was about to get punished.

Swizzle tucked his hands behind his back and fixed his gaze on the ground. "Um…" he mumbled. "That it's not behavior becoming of a hero?"

"That's right," Felix asserted with a firm nod. "You know that Candlehead likes her candle very much. Why did you try to take it from her?"

Running a hand through his shaggy green hair, Swizzle swallowed hard. It was awkward to receive a dressing-down from someone who wasn't much taller than he was.

"I dunno…" he muttered. "I just wanted to get her attention, I guess…"

"Well, there's nicer ways to get people's attention than taking things that don't belong to you," Felix said kindly. "Like a handshake, or perhaps a friendly yodel."

Calhoun knelt down to look Swizzle in the eye. "Now, I want you to go give Candlehead her candle back and say you're sorry, and you have to mean it. Understood, soldier?"

Swizzle nodded, then shuffled back over to Candlehead, who was still frozen in place. He handed the candle back to her.

"I'm sorry, Candlehead," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Candlehead smiled. "It's okay, Swizzle. But, um, don't you have to tag me first before I can take it?"

Felix and Calhoun chuckled, placing their arms around each other. It was hard to believe that just yesterday, Felix was guzzling an entire mug of root beer to cope with the stresses of parenting. Now it was practically second nature…

And speaking of yesterday…

The arcade had closed several hours ago, but Felix still hadn't seen Ralph since he left Tapper's last night. He and Vanellope had taken the incredibly bold step of leaving the arcade, traveling through that shady new "WiFi" whatchamacallit in Game Central Station to find a replacement steering wheel for the _Sugar Rush_ console. Felix didn't know much about this Internet thing, but from what the Surge Protector had told him, it could be a dangerous place. And considering what had almost happened the last time Ralph was out of his game for this long…

Felix tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach. Surely, Ralph and Vanellope were okay. The Internet was a big place, wasn't it? Maybe it just naturally took this long to get from one end of it to another.

A familiar chugging sound met Felix's ears. His eyes darted to the train station across the river.

The tiny blue train rumbled along the track, coming to a rest against the buffer. And there, in the backmost car, was the unmistakable mountainous form of Felix's 36-year compatriot, Wreck-It Ralph.

"Hot dog!" Felix yelped. "Ralph and Vanellope are back!"

"'Bout dang time!" Calhoun grinned, as the racers all cheered. Everyone stampeded across the bridge toward the train station.

But as Felix drew closer, he realized something was off. Ralph looked very peculiar. His body was slumped, exhausted, as if he'd walked miles to get here. His expression was hard to read - there was a hint of a relieved smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. In fact, Ralph's eyes were the most concerning thing. They were red and swollen, with a glossy sheen. Had he been crying?

And the medal...the little sugar cookie medal that Vanellope had given him years ago, that he wore every day under his shirt like a badge of honor. How did it get broken like that? What on earth had Ralph been through?

Then, with a jolt, Felix noticed who was missing.

"...Ralph?" Felix asked gently. "What happened? Did you guys get that steering wheel doohickey?"

Calhoun put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with concern. The racers seemed too confused to speak.

Ralph gulped, running a massive hand through his unkempt brown hair. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly feeble.

"Felix, Calhoun...I, uh… I gotta talk to you alone for a second."

* * *

" _SLAUGHTER RACE?!"_

Felix clutched his chest at the sound of the game's name. Calhoun just stared, slack-jawed and scandalized, as if Ralph had just struck her across the face.

"Look, it's not as bad as it sounds," Ralph insisted, his head bumping against the roof of the kitchen as he squeezed his arms in against himself as close as he could. "She told me Shank put her code block thingy in the game so she'll respawn and everything…"

Felix gripped the back of the nearest chair. "You're letting her run around with someone named _Shank?!_ Good gravy, Ralph, is this one of those games where players go around blowing up churches and hijacking buses full of social workers?"

Ralph rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I dunno, maybe? I didn't see all of it. But the point is, it's what Vanellope wanted! She told me it was her dream, y'know? To find a place with no rules or tracks or anything, where she could make her own decisions!" His eyes began to sting again. "I-I know it's gonna be tough, guys, but it was her call, okay? I couldn't stand in her way, this was what was gonna make her happy."

"Oh, gee, where have I heard that before?" Calhoun snarled, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Ralph had known she wouldn't take this news well, but this was the angriest he'd seen her in years.

"Wh-what do you mean?" he stuttered.

Calhoun's armored hands balled into trembling metallic fists. "I mean, I'm pretty sure there's at least one particularly large lummox in this room who once thought he'd find happiness by 86'ing his duty and jumping ship into a game full of brainless bloodthirsty Cy-Bugs. Tell me, Tiny, can you dig into the recesses of that lump of Play-Doh you call a brain and remind me what happened after that?!"

A horrible pang of guilt suddenly shot through Ralph's chest.

"No, guys, c'mon, it's not like that!" he insisted. "She just wanted something more out of life!"

"So then it's _exactly_ like that!" Calhoun barked. "Ralph, how could _you_ of all people let Vanellope abandon her game like this?!"

" _She was bored!"_ Ralph shot back. "She was bored with _Sugar Rush_! She needed a change of pace in her life! I mean, what kind of a friend would I be if I didn't trust her judgement?"

" _SHE'S NINE YEARS OLD!"_ Calhoun bellowed, her bangs falling into her reddened face. "Didn't you even _try_ to explain to her the importance of our duty to the players? What do you think's gonna happen when Litwak plugs that steering wheel into the console on Wednesday and all those fresh-faced game geeks out there discover their favorite avatar is gone for good?!"

Sweat itched on the back of Ralph's neck. He tried his best to ignore it.

"Well, she…" he began lamely. "Sh-she said to me, what'd she say - 'I'm one of sixteen racers, who's gonna miss me?'"

" _WE_ miss her!" Felix yelped. "Jiminy jaminy, Ralph, she didn't even offer to say goodbye?"

"And what about those cute little racing rugrats out there?" Calhoun snapped, jabbing one furious finger behind her at the kitchen door. "All afternoon, you know what the only thing out of their sugar-dusted cakeholes has been? 'When's Vanellope coming back? When's Vanellope coming back?' Do _YOU_ wanna be the one to look 'em in the eyes and tell them that she _ISN'T?!_ "

There was a heavy pause. And then…

"...Vanellope isn't coming back?"

Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun all turned. The kitchen door had swung open, and there on the other side of it were the _Sugar Rush_ racers, all fourteen of their little faces struck with glossy-eyed shock.

Taffyta Muttonfudge, Rancis Fluggerbutter, and Candlehead were at the front of the group. Rancis had gone white as a sheet; Candlehead tugged on one of her pigtails so vigorously that it might've come off. Tears were smudging the edges of Taffyta's mascara already.

"Sh-she…" Taffyta stammered. She didn't seem to want to say it. "...She thinks we're boring?"

Ralph waved his hands wildly, bumping into the china hutch and shattering several plates. "No, no, she didn't mean it like that, kiddo!" he insisted hastily. "I'm sure she wasn't bored with _you…_ "

"I thought we were her _friends!_ " Candlehead bawled. The tears were flowing freely now. "I th-thought she always w-wanted to race with us! Th-that's what she _said_ , wasn't it?"

"Y-you're joking, right?" Rancis gasped, clutching his neatly groomed head. "Like, this is your sick idea of a joke, right, Ralph? _RIGHT?!_ "

"Okay, joke's over!" Gloyd Orangeboar called desperately, looking up at the ceiling through reddened eyes. "You really got us, Vanellope! You can come out now!"

Felix wrung his hammer nervously as all fourteen racers started to cry. Calhoun ran a hand down her fury-lined face.

"Is-Is-Is it because I always t-t-teased her?" Taffyta moaned through shuddering sobs. "I d-didn't _mean_ it! I was just p-p-playing, that's all! It's not like I _really_ hated her-er-er!" She dropped to her knees, her soaked mascara-laden eyes making her look like an exceptionally depressed raccoon.

Swizzle Malarkey tried his best to hold his tears back, fixing his watery gaze on the nearest wall. "This is not happening," he sniffed. "This is _not_ happening…" It wasn't working.

"What about _Sugar Rush_?" Jubileena Bing-Bing asked, wiping her eyes. "She was our president! Who's gonna lead us?"

" _Nobody's_ gonna lead us!" Adorabeezle Winterpop shouted through her sniffles. "Not like Vanellope did! She was the best leader we ever _ha-ha-haaad!_ " Bawling in earnest, she and Jubileena hugged each other, trying to support each other's weight.

Felix put on his best attempt at a smile. "C'mon, kids, you can't be Grumpy Guses forever! Um...we still haven't determined who the Freeze Tag Champion of the Arcade is yet, have we? Who wants to go for round two?"

" _WAAAAH-HA-HAAH!"_ Candlehead howled at the top of her lungs, tears streaming like waterfalls. " _I WANT VANELLOPE-HE-HEE!"_

The kitchen rang with the deafening din of fourteen sobbing, screaming children. Felix slumped against the kitchen counter, admitting defeat, and ran a hand through his dusty brown hair. "Eeoh boy…" he sighed heavily.

"My thoughts exactly," Calhoun growled, glaring dangerously at Ralph.

Ralph couldn't bring himself to look back.


	2. Chapter 2

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, the steering wheel arrived. Mr. Litwak had no idea where it had come from, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth - he just assumed he had an anonymous wealthy benefactor with a passion for racing games.

Besides, this was one less game he'd have to unplug for good. It always broke his heart whenever he had to get rid of a game, especially one as long-running and beloved as _Sugar Rush_ , and he'd already had to scrap one of the original twin cabinets for it (lost to a large Coca-Cola from Subway that one of those two rambunctious game-hogging boys had carelessly knocked onto the control panel - he'd hit them with a week-long ban for that one). Deep down, he'd secretly hoped for some sort of far-fetched miracle like this.

But when the arcade re-opened on Friday, the regular Litwak's patrons noticed something was amiss.

"Hey, where's Vanellope Von Schweetz?"

"Isn't she usually always one of the racers?"

"Every time I've played, she was…"

Nobody thought too much of it at first - as far as Mr. Litwak knew, _Sugar Rush_ just used a random number generator to determine its daily roster of playable characters. Which ones came up was entirely a matter of chance.

But then days became weeks. And as the Christmas break period drew closer - a time of year that always saw a spike in business for the arcade - Vanellope still wasn't coming up in the roster.

Litwak remembered that this had happened before. For a long time, in fact. Vanellope hadn't been playable for the first fifteen years he owned _Sugar Rush_ \- not up until the summer of 2012, when that weird King Candy character had mysteriously disappeared. At the time, Litwak had chalked it up to a small glitch that had worked itself out eventually.

Now, though, that glitch seemed to be back. And players were noticing. Litwak and his employees were pulling fewer and fewer quarters out of _Sugar Rush_ at the end of every day - $8 on Friday, $6 on Saturday, a measly $3 on Sunday.

"She's the best one!" Litwak overheard one dismayed child gripe as she sulked away towards _Hero's Duty_. "With that teleporting power of hers? What's the point in playing if you can't choose the best racer? Otherwise, it's no different from any other dumb ol' racing game."

"I know," her friend grumbled. "And she's like the princess, isn't she? Like, the main character? It's like if they made _Mario Kart_ without Mario. Who does that?"

 _There's some very odd things going on with this game_ , Litwak thought. New tracks showing up out of nowhere, unresponsive controllers, and now this? He'd have to bring his maintenance guy in to look at it on the first Friday after Christmas. He hated the thought of sinking more money into fixing the game than it was worth, but he just couldn't bring himself to unplug it again already. Old softie that he was, he'd always had a dopey fondness for those cute little racer characters.

Which was kind of silly, he knew. After all, it's not like they were alive, right?

* * *

"Man, Vanellope, you should see how they've got this place decked out for the holidays!"

Ralph was slouched on his favorite seat in Game Central Station, the one right in front of the open outlet where _Asteroids_ used to be. The light that streamed through the open holes, though, was nothing compared to what was hanging from the cavernous ceiling of the power strip. The Surge Protector, stuffy and bureaucratic though he may be, had a surprising flair for festive decoration every Christmas season, and always festooned the building with strings upon strings of blinking lights and tinsel, holly wreaths and silver bells. At the far end of the atrium stood a dazzling sparkling Christmas tree, fresh-cut from the forests of _Paperboy_. The hundreds of game characters that came and went throughout the hub couldn't help craning their necks (if they had any) to take it all in.

"Well, show me, ya big doofus!" Vanellope giggled. "It's a hologram call!"

Ralph snorted. "Oh right! Duh!" Clambering to his feet, he held his BuzzzTube communicator up at arm's length, so Vanellope's holographic image could get a clear view of the entire atrium.

"Wow!" she breathed, her light-projected eyes all aglow. "Now that's what I call a buttload of holiday cheer! Hey, who's playing Santa this year?"

Ralph sat back down. "Zangief volunteered this time. Shoulda seen the look on the Angel Kids' faces when they sat on his lap. 'Since when does Santa Claus have a Russian accent?'"

Vanellope giggled into her hand. "I don't know why _you_ didn't do it again, Chumbo. Remember that, two years ago when you were tossin' out presents and you knocked down the tree? That was the funniest thing ever!"

"I'm glad you thought so," Ralph chuckled. "Two feet over and I woulda nailed Eggman right in the noggin. He wouldn't have forgiven me for that so easily…"

Vanellope snickered, then let out a huge squeaky yawn.

"Had a long day, huh?" Ralph grinned.

"About usual," Vanellope said, rubbing her eyes. "Y'know how it is. While you lucky ducks got time off, there's kids over in Japan and Australia who can't wait to get their _Slaughter Race_ on!"

"Well, then, you oughta get some sleep before your next big mission, shouldn't ya?" said Ralph. "The nastiest li'l ragamuffin in Shank's squad can't afford to be fallin' asleep at the wheel, now, can she?"

With a big stretch, Vanellope smiled. "That's you, Ham-Hands, always lookin' out for me. Yeah, I think I will catch a few Z's while I got the chance, now that you mention it. Hey, have fun at Gene's Christmas Eve party tonight, okay?"

"You got it, sister," Ralph beamed. "I'll save you some cocktail shrimp in Felix's freezer for when you come visit next month!"

Vanellope bounced, barely able to contain herself. "Only 32 days away! I'll see you before you know it! Catch ya later, Duke of Hurl! Merry Christmas!"

Ralph laughed. "And glad tidings to you, Sergeant Snot-Sleeves! Take care of yourself, okay?"

Vanellope giggled again. And then, with a beep, she was gone.

Ralph slumped in his seat, slipping the communicator into his pocket. He sat back and watched the arcade residents bustle past, no doubt each of them with some sort of big Christmas Eve plans to attend to.

Indeed, Ralph had plans too. That party started in less than an hour. But somehow, he didn't quite have the energy to get off his seat and get ready yet.

He wanted to go, for sure. He was grateful to Gene for the invitation, and he couldn't wait to sample Mary's always delicious Christmas cookies. And of course, Felix and Calhoun would be there too, and they were always a treat to be around.

No, his lethargy had nothing to do with the party. It had everything to do with the familiar feeling of ennui that he always experienced whenever he got off the phone with Vanellope. Only this time, it was stronger than it had been after any of their conversations from the last four weeks - because for the first time in six years, Ralph was about to experience Christmas without his best friend.

It still hurt. Just as he'd told himself it would. It was nothing he wasn't prepared for, from the moment he'd seen Vanellope disappear up those steps into _Slaughter Race_ to live out her dream. But he didn't know how much longer it would hurt for. He didn't know how much longer he'd have to deal with these sudden swells of aching emptiness, as if one of his arms had been cut off.

In his mind, Ralph replayed the conversation he'd just had. Vanellope had shared her harrowing tales of missions she and Shank had gone on in the past week - hijacking big rigs, running flaming oil tankers off highway overpasses, the whole works. Ralph had updated her on the latest from his weekly Bad-Anon meetings and how well Q-bert's begonia garden was coming along.

He hadn't told her about how angry Calhoun had been with him when he returned to the arcade without her. He hadn't told her how _Sugar Rush_ was plummeting in popularity in her absence. He hadn't told her how bummed out all her former fellow racers were now that she was gone, how Taffyta was still blaming herself, how Rancis never seemed to talk to anyone anymore, how Candlehead was still asking Felix every day when Vanellope would be coming back…

He hadn't told her that he was having doubts about whether he'd done the right thing.

Because he knew it'd wreck her to know. He knew it'd jeopardize her happiness to know just how much they all missed her. He didn't want her to feel like she had to sacrifice her dream just to please him. He wasn't going to be that selfish anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Ralph got to his feet and slunk off towards the outlet that led to _Fix-It Felix Jr._ , absentmindedly raising his hand and brushing the wreath that hung over the grounding prong as he entered. He tried not to think about three Christmases ago when Vanellope had tried for ten minutes to jump high enough to reach that same wreath herself, then been so proud of herself when she finally did it.

He still had to wrap her present. But what was the point in doing it now, really, when she wouldn't see it for another month?

* * *

Vanellope tucked the communicator away inside the pocket of her hoodie and scootched back into the center of her hammock, eager to get whatever amount of rest she could. It wasn't much of a bed, but then again, Shank's garage was the closest thing she had to a house these days.

As she got comfortable in the hammock, she cuddled up with her new favorite toy - a ratty old stuffed gorilla that she'd pulled off the front radiator grill of a player's 18-wheeler she'd run off the road last week. The plush animal was dirty, with matted hair, and it smelled funny. It reminded her of Ralph.

She rolled over, and her eyes came to rest on her car - a real full-size car, electric sugar green just like her hoodie, which Felony and Little Debbie had customized with the heavily-inked visage of a frightening candy-coated flaming skull. It was lightning fast and the envy of every _Slaughter Race_ player who had the misfortune to cross her.

But driving it had taken some getting used to. It didn't handle quite the same as her old vehicle, that lopsided candy kart from _Sugar Rush_ that Ralph had helped her build all those years ago. One of the many things Vanellope was anticipating in her visit to the arcade next month was getting to drive that old fudge-bucket again. Ralph had assured her the racers were keeping it safe in the castle's garage until then.

Deep down, Vanellope wished she didn't have to wait another month. A big impatient part of her wanted to visit Game Central Station right now, to see the Christmas lights in all their festive glory, not just as a hologram. A wistful pang shot through her stomach. This was the first Christmas in six years that she'd be spending away from Ralph.

Not that anyone would be able to tell it was Christmas just by looking outside. _Slaughter Race_ looked the same as it always did - hazy, hot, and smoky, its streets lined with broken glass and hollowed out corpses of cars. It wasn't the kind of game where the developers thought of decorating for the holidays.

Not like _Sugar Rush_.

Exactly once a year, it snowed all across _Sugar Rush_. The playful minds at TobiKomi had taken advantage of the in-game clock to slip in a few holiday-themed Easter eggs. Every Christmas day, the entire game world became dusted with shaved ice snow, which fell from the mint-green heavens for 24 hours and turned every track into a festive winter wonderland. The players never got to see it, what with the arcade being closed on Christmas and all, but it had been a joyful treat for Vanellope and her friends every year.

But not this year. This year, the only thing Vanellope would see falling from the sky was flaming police helicopters.

She turned over in the hammock, clutching her gorilla and trying again to find a comfortable spot. It was getting harder and harder to do.

 _Don't think about it,_ she reminded herself. _It's just nerves. It's not how you really feel._

But every time she told herself, she believed it a little less. Staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rumbling of souped-up engines and machine gun fire outside the walls, her mind drifted unbidden to the thoughts that it had been landing on more and more frequently with every passing day.

When Vanellope had first driven through the mean streets of _Slaughter Race_ , it had felt like just what she needed to pick herself out of the same-old-same-old rut she'd found herself in back at the arcade. There were no tracks in this game! She could go wherever she wanted! The wide-open sandbox was hers to explore freely!

Only now that she was living here, she found that wasn't exactly the case after all. As a member of Shank's crew, her territory was confined to just one area of the massive game map. There was plenty more of the city to explore, of course, but that was for the players to see, not NPCs who had to carry out specific player missions.

And not that Vanellope objected to getting dirty - heck, how many chocolate mud puddles had she and her fellow _Sugar Rush_ racers played in over the years? - but even she had her limits. Ralph hadn't been kidding about the smog. She hadn't noticed initially, but over the first few weeks, her little digital lungs, accustomed to the sugary-sweet air of her native game, were protesting more and more against _Slaughter Race_ 's grungy, gooey atmosphere. Every morning she woke up coughing.

That is, on the mornings she even got any sleep to wake up from. The skewed day-night cycle in _Slaughter Race_ meant that nights only lasted around thirty minutes at a time. And that alone was barely enough time to get any rest - but then there was the noise. You literally couldn't go two seconds in this game without hearing a shootout, a car crash, a cacophony of explosions, or a gaggle of pre-teen players cursing up a storm over the in-game voice chat. Vanellope knew this game was rated M for Mature, but c'mon, have a _little_ decency…

And that was the part she hadn't anticipated at all. In a game meant for adults, a game loaded with racing and shooting and blowing stuff up real good, there wasn't a single NPC her own age anywhere. No one to go to the playground with for a game of tag, no one to sprawl out on the floor and draw pictures with, no one to stay up late with making blanket forts and telling spooky stories - no one in _Slaughter Race_ cared about any of that junk.

She had Shank and her squad, sure. But they were all about customizing their cars. It was practically all they ever did in their free time - what little of it there was between missions, because there were literally thousands of people playing this game at all hours of the day. Vanellope was amazed she'd managed to go these past three minutes without Pyro shaking her awake, telling her it was time to play scrublord to another level 1 newbie who thought they could make off with Shank's coveted muscle car again...and again..and _again_...

Rolling over, Vanellope hugged her gorilla tighter than ever. An uncomfortable lump was forming in her throat. She started to quiver and glitch again, her body desperate to move, to do _something_.

Her mind drifted, as it so often did these days, to _Sugar Rush_. Memories that rose automatically to the forefront of her mind - that exceptionally tough Random Roster Race where she and Rancis had tied for ninth, and agreed to swap off throughout the day as playable characters. The playful trash talk she always shared with Taffyta, neither of them truly meaning any of the nasty things they said. The time Candlehead had come to her in tears, lamenting that she'd lost her candle somewhere in the recesses of Peanut Butter Bog, and Vanellope had helped her wade through the stickiness to find it, because she knew how much it meant to her…

The epic climb up Soft-Serve Summit that Adorabeezle had challenged her and Swizzle to. Gloyd's annual Halloween pranks, and the year he'd scared Minty practically out of her socks by filling her kart with gummi spiders. Jubileena's goofy rhyming cheers that she made up to encourage everyone. Snowanna's funky little victory dance that she did every time she won a race. The time Crumbelina invited everyone over to her massive house for a sleepover, and how they'd all taken turns doing cannonballs into her luxurious caramel jacuzzi…

And the Pallete Swaps, as they called themselves...Citrusella Flugpucker, Nougetsia Brumblestain, Sticky Wipplesnit, and Torvald Batterbutter, whom the developers had thrown into the game almost as an afterthought, with the lowest stats, least likely to make the roster. They'd come to Vanellope for advice, practically in tears, desperate to learn how to be better racers, and Vanellope had spent a whole week teaching them skills like how to drift and when to best utilize a Sweet Seeker power-up. They'd been so grateful for everything she'd taught her…

Sour Bill, her lovable little right-hand grump, whose glum expression hid what Vanellope knew was a genuine fondness and respect for her every time he brought those trophies out at the end of a race. Wynnchel and Duncan, the donut policemen, who were always up for an impromptu game of Cops and Robbers around the castle grounds…

And then there was Felix and Calhoun. They were the cutest couple Vanellope had ever laid eyes on. She was so honored to be chosen as the bridesmaid for their wedding, even if it did mean wearing that stupid poofy pink dress again. She appreciated how they always took time out of their busy schedules to make it to her Random Roster Races, cheering her on from the top box right alongside Ralph…

Ralph.

Vanellope's eyes began to burn as she remembered all the good times with Ralph. The belching contests at _Tapper's_ , smashing up that car in the bonus level from _Street Fighter II_ , long nights spent out-boogying the competition at _Dance Dance Revolution_...and the view from the top of Niceland Apartments, where she and Ralph could see the entire arcade. And the knowledge that if he hadn't blundered into her game six years ago, she wouldn't have had any of these memories at all…

 _Here we go,_ Vanellope thought bitterly, as she glitched more spastically, her anxious body flashing into a mess of blue pixels. _The old back-and-forth routine again._

It was practically a daily occurrence at this point. She hadn't told anyone about it, not even Ralph, because she felt like this was something she needed to work out on her own, but it was like her brain belonged to two different people these days, both arguing opposite sides of the same issue.

 _Did I make a mistake?_ she thought.

 _But no,_ she counter-thought, _wasn't this my dream? An exciting new game with no boundaries?_

It had been her dream...sort of. At least, from the moment she'd set foot in _Slaughter Race_...less than 24 hours before she'd made the decision not to go back to Litwak's.

 _Your dream was to race with Taffyta and Rancis and all them,_ the other half of her brain protested. _And you had that. Why'd you give it up? Because you were bored?_

Vanellope breathed hard through her nose, as hard as the metallic-scented air would allow. This was a very good question. One she didn't have a particularly compelling answer for.

 _But it wasn't like I was bored with them! I was just tired of the routine!_

 _Were you?_ she shot back at herself. _Or were you just taking your freedom and good luck for granted?_

Her hands gripped her gorilla tighter than ever as she buried her face in the back of its grimy head.

 _Ralph told me I'd made the right choice!_

And then her brain delivered the finishing blow.

 _Ralph wants you to be happy - and_ you _told_ him _that this is what you wanted. Is it?_

Vanellope winced, blinking her eyes hard. The dam was about to burst. The memories seemed to be playing all at once - her fellow racers, Felix, Calhoun, Ralph...how they'd always been there by her side…

...And then, she remembered how it felt six years ago, the first time a player had selected her as their avatar. The joyful elation of being chosen, the thrill of being in the driver's seat and coursing across the track in tandem with the player's controls, the warm full-up feeling that came from the sight of that little girl's smiling bespectacled face when she crossed the finish line first...and the knowledge that she, Vanellope, had helped a player win, for the first time in her life, after everyone had always told her she couldn't…

And now she really couldn't. Because nobody in _Slaughter Race_ cared about playing _as_ her. It wasn't even an option. She was an NPC now. Her goal was to _stop_ players from winning, to _stop_ them from enjoying the game. Shank called it "maintaining the challenge". But something about it had never felt quite right.

And as the tears flowed freely down Vanellope's cheeks, she finally understood why.

She clutched the half-medal around her neck. Parts of the words "You're" and "Hero" were all that remained for her to remember Ralph by. Ralph, who'd risked his life to help her realize her dream. Her _real_ dream.

A shuddering sob escaped her lips as, for the first time in weeks, both halves of her brain agreed on something.

 _This isn't where I belong._


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Big V! Heads up!"

With a startled glitch, Vanellope leapt off the hammock and hastily tried to dry her tears without anyone noticing. Pyro, Felony, and Little Debbie had just burst into her little corner of the garage, all three of them wearing expressions of utmost exhilaration.

"Oh, uh, hey guys," Vanellope squeaked, trying to sound casual and inconspicuously wipe her nose at the same time. "What's the big haps?"

"Got another crew of wannabe edgelords outside tryin' to jack Shank's ride!" Little Debbie said eagerly. "Butcher Bob overheard 'em say they just registered their accounts this morning! There's no _way_ they're gonna get past us! Ready to rock their worlds?"

Keeping her back to her coworkers, Vanellope stuffed her half-medal down the front of her hoodie and rubbed the last of the tears away. "Yeah, I'll be right there, dudes! I just, um...woke up from a power nap and I gotta clean the eye gunk out, y'know? Go on ahead, I'll catch up!"

"WOOOO!" Pyro screamed, pumping both fists in the air. "C'mon, fam, this is gonna be _lit!_ "

And the three of them bounded away to their cars. Not one of them even seemed to have noticed that Vanellope had been crying.

Vanellope straightened her hoodie and trudged toward her car. It was a challenge to make her feet move; her stomach seemed to be filled with lead.

 _I'm just gonna have to tell Shank_ , she thought as she wrenched the driver's side door open. _Shank will understand. She wouldn't want me to be unhappy either._

And as she considered the very real possibility that she could be back at Game Central Station within a few hours, that she could be spending the holidays with Ralph and Felix and Calhoun and all her friends after all, she felt a warm fuzziness spread throughout her digital body. The thought of Ralph's beaming face at the sight of her showing up a month early swam before her in her mind. She couldn't help but smile at it.

Which she supposed was beneficial. After all, you can't pwn n00bs with tears in your eyes.

* * *

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

"Dude, I saw Pewdiepie do this once. How hard can it be to jack a stupid car?"

xXm3m3l0rdXx tossed his bolt cutters aside as he and his friend StoneKoldKilla237 wrenched open the door to Shank's garage. The uncustomized avatars would've been indistinguishable if not for their nameplates. Sneaking as well as their jerky running animations would allow, they crept into the semidarkness, melee weapons at the ready.

"There it is!" squeaked xXm3m3l0rdXx, swinging his crowbar at nothing in his excitement. Sitting before them, against the back wall of the garage, cloaked in shadow, was Shank's legendary wine-red muscle car, the Holy Grail of _Slaughter Race_.

"Oh man, you weren't kidding!" StoneKoldKilla237 gasped. "We're gonna be the richest kids on the whole server with this baby!"

And then a voice cut through the darkness. A husky, teasing sort of voice.

"Isn't it past you boys' bedtime?"

xXm3m3l0rdXx hastily stowed his crowbar. "Oh, sh-"

VRRRRRMMMMMM.

The garage lit up with six pairs of headlights as cars revved to life all around the hapless avatars. They'd been caught off guard by Shank's entire crew - Pyro, Felony, Little Debbie, Butcher Bob, and the newest addition to the team (no doubt the result of some weird nostalgic cross promotion), Vanellope Von Schweetz.

And there in front was Shank, smirking malevolently as she gripped the steering wheel, long wavy hair cascading in front of her glinting mischievous brown eyes.

"I think you weasels need to learn a thing or two about respecting private property," she grinned.

Cursing incomprehensibly, xXm3m3l0rdXx and StoneKoldKilla237 made a hasty run for it as Shank hit the gas, nearly splattering them against the back wall. They scrambled back outside, clipping through each other all the way, and dived into their own beat-up junkers as quick as their character animations would allow.

But before they could accelerate, a loud VOOP drew their attention. Vanellope's candy-green car had literally just teleported in front of them in a cloud of blue pixels, blocking their path.

"Going somewhere, Diaper-Babies?" Vanellope intoned.

The would-be car thieves continued to freak out, their shrieks an unintelligible tangle of mic-clipping static. They didn't even notice Felony tearing out of the garage until she was inches from them.

"What the f-"

CRUNCH. A good third of xXm3m3l0rdXx's vehicle health vanished.

"Haul!" StoneKoldKilla237 screamed. "HAUL!"

Tires screeching, the two thieves pulled the best three-point turn they could with six cars continually bashing into them. Finally, they spotted an opening, and they were free.

"Oh no you don't!" Little Debbie shouted gleefully. "This party's not even half over!"

The chase was on. Shank's crew tore up the dingy orange streets in pursuit of the thieves, weaving back and forth across the white lines and sending every nearby player scurrying for their lives. Shank laughed out loud, tossing her hair back in the wind as she floored the accelerator. Vanellope kept up the rear, trying to maintain a smile as best she could.

"You take that one!" Shank called, pointing at the car in the right lane. "We'll take this one!"

Butcher Bob wedged his car in between the two thieves, forcing StoneKoldKilla237 against the concrete barrier; sparks flew as the player's uncustomized starter vehicle scraped and crunched the divider.

"I'd say you need to re-evaluate your self-worth, grasshopper!" Bob said serenely. And with the flick of a switch on his dashboard, razor-sharp steel spikes sprung out from the center of his hubcaps, shredding StoneKoldKilla237's tires to ribbons as they spun.

StoneKoldKilla237 pushed his car to the limit, rims shrieking on the pavement in protest. But there was no escape now. Pulling up behind, Little Debbie punched a button beneath her steering wheel, and a massive grappling hook shot out from under her car's front grill. It punctured StoneKoldKilla237's rear bumper and yanked taut, dragging the car to a screaming stop. Smoke billowed from every opening of the crippled vehicle.

Recognizing the futility of the fight, StoneKoldKilla237 hastily made a run for it - only to stumble smack-dab into Felony's car as it drifted to a halt right in front of him. Another chunk of health gone. One more hit and it was back to the title screen…

Felony coolly withdrew a small handheld device from her glove compartment, one that crackled dangerously as she fingered the button. "You promise to play nice from now on?" she hissed.

"Oh, c'mon!" StoneKoldKilla237 pleaded. "Don't tase me, bro!"

Felony rolled her eyes, then shot the taser. 500 volts ripped through StoneKoldKilla237's digital body. And with a final resounding CLANG, the player's avatar vanished in a puff of red particle matter, leaving only a pathetic chalk outline on the road.

"Poor scrub deserved it just for that worn-out meme," Felony chuckled. "What is this, 2007?"

xXm3m3l0rdXx wasn't having much better luck. He couldn't shake Shank, Pyro, and Vanellope. The engine of his car whined in agony as they all raced up the highway.

Pyro pulled up on the passenger side, goggles down, double flamethrowers at the ready. "You play with fire, sucka, and you get _burned!_ " he laughed maniacally.

xXm3m3l0rdXx's expressionless avatar face betrayed the panic in his voice. "Oh, you've GOT to be sh-"

FOOOOSH.

Vanellope instinctively flinched as Pyro shot twin tendrils of fire into the thief's car. She knew this was just a video game, but she still couldn't help feeling bad for the poor kids who crossed Shank's path like this. Did they really have to lay it on _this_ thick? "Maintaining the challenge", sure, but what's the point of even playing if it's _this_ impossible to win?

Not that Vanellope herself was completely without sin, considering what was in her glove compartment right now. When she'd first joined the squad, Shank had given her free pick of whatever weapon she wanted. She'd settled for the sticky bombs, since they felt the most familiar - they were the closest thing to _Sugar Rush_ 's trademark Sweet Seeker power-up that _Slaughter Race_ had.

And as the chase turned towards an unfinished off-ramp, Vanellope knew the exact maneuver Shank was going to expect of her.

Still on fire, HP dwindling by the second, xXm3m3l0rdXx went flying off the highway into the sky, parts of his car's undercarriage clattering away into the wild blue yonder. Shank and Pyro followed, engines roaring - but Vanellope shut her eyes and glitched, glitched off the highway and thirty feet down, to just yards ahead of where the thief was going to land. Popping the glove compartment open, she grabbed a sticky bomb and prepared to chuck.

With a bone-rattling CRASH, xXm3m3l0rdXx's mutilated car became reacquainted with the earth. The hapless and still smoldering player avatar barely had time to wonder how the heck this little candy-haired girl got in front of him so fast when Vanellope gritted her teeth and hurled the sticky bomb as hard and as far as her little arm would allow.

It landed on the thief's hood with a thunk.

And in the split-second before she detonated it, Vanellope heard the kid on the other end of the voice chat yelp, a pained and fruitless cry of anguish - a cry that no one who plays video games for fun should ever have to emit. A cry that was _her_ fault.

"Aw, _what the f-_ "

KABOOM.

The car exploded into a million pieces. Beneath the din, the familiar CLANG told Vanellope that xXm3m3l0rdXx had been completely obliterated.

And in her moment of empathy, Vanellope had forgotten the all-important final part of this maneuver - glitching away to safety at the last second.

The shockwave from the explosion flipped Vanellope's car clean over. Her heart leapt to her throat as she tumbled end over end, shutting her eyes tight as the vehicle crashed upside-down on the sidewalk, trapping her. Her face smacked the concrete. The headrest of her passenger seat landed on her tiny ankle with a sickening THOCK.

The pain was excruciating. It was like someone had jabbed a white-hot knife in her leg. Hissing violently, trying to hold the tears back, Vanellope clutched at her chest. She could feel her half of Ralph's medal under her hoodie, still in one piece.

Tires screeched all around her. Car doors slammed. Then the familiar sound of Shank's voice, higher than normal, panicked.

"Big V! You all right?!"

Trying her best to focus, Vanellope shut her eyes and glitched. In a flash, she was out from under the wrecked car, lying in a heap a few yards away. She gingerly got to her feet. Her ankle stung as she tried to put pressure on it.

Little Debbie and Butcher Bob each clutched one of Vanellope's arms as they helped her to a standing position. "C'mon, Big V," Debbie pleaded, "talk to us! You feelin' okay?"

Vanellope coughed. "Yeah," she wheezed, "yeah, I'll be fine...not the first wreck I've ever been in, let's be honest here…"

Shank laughed; Felony and Pyro smiled appreciatively. "That's the spirit, Big V," Shank said. "Love that confidence of yours. Awesome job back there, too - that'll be the last time those jokers try to mess with us!"

Pyro hooted in celebration. "Dang right, Shank! You bring that steez into _this_ house, you get _jacked up_! That's how it _goes_ , sucka!" he hollered, finishing with a celebratory dab.

Vanellope grimaced. _Did that really just happen?_

Shank whipped her sunglasses off her head and tucked them into the pocket of her leather jacket. "C'mon, team, let's all of us get back to the garage. We gotta get Big V's car back in top shape before the next wannabe comes knockin' on our door! Right, Big V?"

A pit welled up in Vanellope's stomach. She glanced awkwardly at the ground. Now was the time.

"Um, actually…" she began nervously. "Shank, there's, uh...there's something I gotta tell you."

Shank stopped and stared, curious. So did the other four drivers.

Vanellope tucked her hands behind her back, hobbling carefully on her sore ankle. "Look, you guys have been...um, _great_ to me and all, but I've been doin' some thinking lately. Y'know, about the arcade and stuff? And, well...I just kinda feel like…" She knew this wouldn't be easy. "...I feel like I don't belong here after all," she spit out as fast as she could.

Shank cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean, Big V? Didn't you say this was your dream, to come to a place like this and look for new adventures and new challenges? And look at you, you've done great - you're a natural programmed racer! You practically put us to shame!"

Vanellope sighed. "Thanks, Shank, that means a lot comin' from someone like you, it really does...but I can't help it, I miss home. Back there, I'm a _playable_ character! I'm workin' together with the players instead of blowin' 'em up! I dunno, that just seems more... _rewarding_ to me, y'know?" Her eyes dropped to the pavement again. "And don't take this the wrong way, 'cuz you guys are...uh, _cool_ and everything, but...I miss my friends. I gotta go back, Shank, I just gotta."

She glanced up at Shank, wringing her little hands in trepidation. "You understand, right?"

Shank closed her eyes. She seemed to be thinking very hard about something.

It suddenly occurred to Vanellope just how much taller and stronger Shank was compared to her.

"Well, Vanellope," Shank finally said. Her voice was heavier than usual. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

Vanellope blinked. Shank's expression was hard to read. She did seem a little disappointed. But there was something else in her eyes that Vanellope hadn't seen there before. Something cold.

And then she realized that the rest of the squad had strode up around her, closing in on her in a circle. She was surrounded.

An uncomfortable itchiness crept up Vanellope's back. "Um…" she murmured. "Okay, then, so...I guess I'll just be, ah...going, then? Is, uh...is that what's happening?"

Shank crossed her arms, squinting down at Vanellope.

"No. I don't think that's what's happening, honey."

Vanellope barely had time to react as she heard Felony click the button behind her.

500 volts shot through her tiny body, paralyzing her, seizing her muscles. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

_Clink._

Gene and Mary tapped their champagne glasses together, toasting a Merry Christmas to each other. Indeed, it was hard for anyone in the penthouse not to be merry at the moment. Gene's annual Christmas Eve party was one of the most anticipated annual events in _Fix-It Felix Jr._ , a posh and strictly adults-only affair that drew esteemed invitees from all over the arcade.

A tinkly 8-bit piano rendition of "The Christmas Song" drifted casually from the hi-fi in the corner. All the Nicelanders mingled eagerly, carrying plates filled with hors d'oeuvres or delicious holiday pastries, courtesy of Mary's kitchen. Felix strode through the crowd, smiling and greeting the guests, a red Santa hat perched merrily on his head in place of his usual blue carpenter's cap. Q-Bert and Coily bounded alongside, nimbly balancing their plates on their heads.

Also in attendance were Ralph's group of Bad-Anon buddies, grateful for the opportunity to meet and greet outside of the usual break room in _Pac-Man_. Clyde and his fellow ghosts hovered through the room in a straight line as Pac-Man himself gobbled a row of finger sandwiches on the refreshment table. Satan was doing his best to slow-dance with Sorceress, which was awkward since her feet hovered a good six inches off the floor. Bowser and Eggman chatted in a corner, swapping stories of times when they almost defeated their respective protagonists.

But perhaps the only partygoer not thoroughly enjoying himself was the one slumped on a folding chair in the corner by the Christmas tree. Ralph stared vaguely out at the action before him, trying to find comfort in the sight of everyone talking and laughing and sharing in the spirit of the season. But his mind kept drifting to the one person he wished could've seen it too.

Zombie and Zangief sidled over to Ralph's lonely seat. Zangief was still in his Santa suit; Zombie's rotted neck was adorned with a tacky blinking light necklace.

"Ralph!" Zombie groaned. "Rrrngh! Why you no smile? You get into bad batch of oysters or something?"

Ralph rubbed the back of his neck. "No, it's not that, Zombie, it's just...eh, y'know, my mind's been somewhere else these last few weeks."

Zangief nodded solemnly, patting Ralph on his massive shoulder. "I am understanding, Ralph. You are still missing little licorice girl, correct? Please accept my sympathies, good friend - it is very difficult to be away from loved one on holidays. But you will see her soon, when January is here, will you not?"

Leaning back in his creaking chair, Ralph sighed. "Yeah, that's true. She'll be able to stop by for like a day while her game recalibrates."

"Then that is what you should be smiling about!" Zangief said, putting his hands on his hips. "Take comfort in fact that separation is not permanent. Long distance is not enough to break truly strong friendship. Remember that, Ralph."

Ralph knew this was true, of course. But there was more to it than that.

Across the room, he spotted Felix and Calhoun snuggling under the mistletoe.

"Thanks for the pick-me-up, guys," Ralph said, drawing to his feet. "Listen, I gotta go talk to the lovebirds for a quick second."

Felix and Calhoun pulled apart as they saw Ralph approaching. "Ralph!" Felix said concernedly. "Feelin' any better?"

Ralph shrugged, glancing at the wall. "I dunno...I have my good days and bad days, I guess."

"Mm, I know just how you feel," Felix intoned, holding up a tumbler of chocolate milk. "But you said it yourself - Vanellope's happy! Least we can do is celebrate that, right?" And wincing slightly, he downed the whole glass in one gulp. "WHOO! Build me up buttercup, I am feeling _loose_ tonight!"

Calhoun absentmindedly brushed her bangs aside as she observed Ralph's hangdog expression. She thought she knew what was on his mind. It was more than just wishing Vanellope was there.

"Listen, Ralph…" she began softly, much more gently than usual. "The day you came back from the Internet...I'm sorry I went ape on you like I did. You were torn up worse than fresh hung drapes in a room full of anxiety-riddled kittens. I had no right to unleash on you like I did...I was just worried about Vanellope, is all."

Ralph shut his eyes. "No, Calhoun, you...you had a point. The least I coulda done was talk to Vanellope and remind her of her duty to the players. After everything I went through…"

Felix gulped. He hated to see anyone beat themselves up like this, especially his closest friend. "Well, it hasn't been _too_ bad, has it? I mean, _Sugar Rush_ isn't unplugged, after all…"

"Sure, not yet, but didn't you hear Litwak the other day when he was emptyin' the quarters out of it?" Ralph barked. "It's never made such chump change like this before! You can tell what the players think, it's not the same without her. They think the game's still broken…"

He sighed, running a giant hand over his creased face. "What if he does junk it? All those little kids, gameless again, takin' up a ton of you guys' time, all because of me bein' an idiot…"

"Oh, Ralph, we don't mind watchin' after the racers!" Felix insisted. "I mean, once we got the hang of it and fixed everything in the apartment that they broke, it was pretty smooth sailing that day!"

"It's not just that," Ralph growled. "It didn't need to happen at all! Not if Vanellope was still here!"

The old familiar jolt of guilt rippled through Ralph's stomach again.

"...I shouldn't have said that," he gulped. "I can't keep her here, not if her dream is to be in _Slaughter Race_. But lookin' at all those bummed out players…"

Calhoun put an arm around Ralph, as far as she could reach; Felix patted his cushion-sized hand consolingly.

"Ralph," Calhoun said, and he could hear a slight break in her voice, "you know there's no easy answer to this. This is something she's got to figure out for herself. But you gotta be open with her. Next time you talk to her on the phone, let her know all this stuff. It's what friends do, y'know?"

Ralph breathed heavily and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Felix wrung his Santa hat nervously. "Golly gee, I sure hope Vanellope's okay in that game of hers...poor kid, spending Christmas in a game full of crash-bang-kaboom like that."

A hint of a smile almost forced its way onto Ralph's face. "Well, that's one thing we _don't_ have to worry about, Felix," he said. "Vanellope's made of some pretty tough stuff. If anyone can handle the mean streets of _Slaughter Race_ , it's her."

* * *

Vanellope shook her head. It felt like it had been filled with marbles.

Blinking, she tried to get her bearings. There was light...light from above. A single lamp. The room was big. In the darkness beyond, there were windows in the ceiling...a garage. Shank's garage.

Butcher Bob and Felony on her right. Little Debbie and Pyro on her left. Concealed in the shadows.

She looked down. She was in an aluminum folding chair. Ropes bound her to it, across her torso, her arms and legs.

"Okay," she growled, "you dipsticks know I can just glitch out of this, right?"

"You won't," said a voice from the shadows.

Shank stepped into the light, cool and collected. She glared down at Vanellope.

"If you promise not to glitch away, I'll untie you," she said. "And I'll explain everything."

Vanellope squinted suspiciously at her. "I shoulda known it was too good to be true," she snarled.

But to her surprise, Shank knelt down behind the chair and undid her ropes. Vanellope leapt off the seat, rubbing her wrists.

"There," Shank said softly. "You're free. But listen to me, Vanellope. You can't leave _Slaughter Race_."

"And what makes you think you're gonna stop me, Brunhilde?" Vanellope snapped. She reared back to glitch out the door.

And she froze in her tracks as Pyro, with frightening speed, whipped out his twin flamethrowers and pointed them at her, his fingers hovering over the triggers.

"I wouldn't do that, girl-bro," he said heavily.

Vanellope tucked her arms behind her back and planted both feet on the floor. "Ohh-kay then, let's not get all crazy in here…" she squeaked.

"That's _enough_ , Pyro," Shank said firmly, putting out a hand and lowering the flamethrowers. Shooting a dismissive look at Felony, she added "And _you_ didn't need to shock her like that, either. Look at the poor girl, she doesn't trust us anymore…"

"Oh yeah, imagine that," Vanellope muttered. She kept one eye on the door, debating whether or not she could risk bolting from five armed NPCs.

Shank knelt down to Vanellope's level, looking her dead in the eyes. "I didn't want it to come to this, Vanellope, I _really_ didn't. You have to believe me."

"Frankly, I don't know who to believe at this point," Vanellope shot back. "You wanna unpack all this for me or not? Why won't you let me go home?!"

With a sigh, Shank stood up.

"Do you understand how popular _Slaughter Race_ is, Vanellope? There are literally tens of thousands of people on the planet who play this game every day. And they all have one goal that they're fighting for, one goal that keeps them leveling up every free moment they have - and it's sitting right in this garage."

She pointed, and Vanellope turned around to see Shank's car parked behind her.

"That car is the most sought-after vehicle in this entire game," Shank continued. "And _Slaughter Race_ would not be anywhere as popular as it is if it were easy for those players to just waltz in here and take it. My squad and I are programmed to make it as challenging as possible for anyone to get their avatars' digital butts behind the wheel of that ride. And that magnificent challenge is what keeps people coming back, day after day."

Vanellope blinked. "Yeah, neat, is this going anywhere?"

Shank put her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans and frowned. "You're impatient, Vanellope. It's a double-edged trait for a racer of your caliber to have." She cleared her throat. "The problem is, this game went online four years ago. In video game years, that's an eternity. The developers of _Slaughter Race_ are already working on new games, bigger games, and they don't have time anymore to add upgrades to this one. The players won't sit still for long, Vanellope. They want new challenges. Otherwise, there's plenty of other violent sandbox games out there that'll draw their attention."

Felony scoffed. "You know how much new player registration has dropped ever since _Red Dead Redemption II_ came out? You'd rather steal a horse than a car, hey, that's _your_ problem…"

"Anyway," Shank said loudly, "the point is, if the developers won't take the initiative to make this game better, then it's up to us. And that's where you come in, Vanellope."

Vanellope took a step back. "What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly.

Shank smiled. "The moment I saw you jack my car, I knew you had guts. When I realized you were from _Sugar Rush_ , I knew players would recognize you. And when it turned out you have this ability - this _amazing,_ wonderful ability to manipulate your code at will - I knew, I just knew that you were what this game needed. You're the star character of a classic '90s racing game series! '90s nostalgia is very hot right now - it gets people interested! And with that glitch of yours, it's virtually impossible for any player to get by you! You put the challenge back into _Slaughter Race_ , Vanellope! They love you out there! That's truly something to be proud of!"

Vanellope could feel her blood boiling. Her teeth grinded furiously as her hands balled into bitter little fists.

"So you _USED_ me?!" she spat, blue pixels popping all over her body. "You didn't care about my happiness at all! You just wanted another flunky for your stupid squad so you could blow up more 12-year-olds!"

Shank knelt down again. The air of cool control she normally exuded seemed to be faltering. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

"Vanellope, I never said I don't care about your happiness," she hushed. "You can still visit that arcade of yours on recalibration days, that's fine, but you can't leave _us!_ If the game stops upgrading, players get bored! If they get bored, we get shut down! Don't you get it? Online games die all the time from lack of interest! These modern gamers, they lose that interest so quick! You don't want us to lose everything we've fought for all these years, do you?"

Her face was warm and understanding, the same way it had looked on that hillside a month ago when Vanellope had confessed her dilemma to her.

Vanellope felt her insides turn over.

"Whatever happened to 'friends don't always have to have the same dream'?" she choked.

Shank lowered her gaze.

"This is different," she said. "This isn't about what we want, it's about what we need."

"I _need_ to go _home!_ " Vanellope squealed. "What I _don't_ need is to keep chuckin' sticky bombs in middle schooler's faces just 'cuz _you're_ too scared of the future! You wanna make this game impossible to win? Fine, Shank, you do what you want, but from now on, you count me _out,_ got it? I'm out of here!"

"And where will you go?" Shank shot back, drawing herself up to her full impressive height. "Back to the game you abandoned?"

"It's my _home!_ " Vanellope snarled. "My _real_ home!"

Shank crossed her arms defiantly. "And what if they don't want you back?"

Vanellope glared speechlessly, her face flush with fury.

"You skipped out on _Sugar Rush_ without even a goodbye, didn't you?" Shank hissed. "What, were you hoping your friend Ralph would take care of that for you? Or were you so eager to find new exciting things in your life, you didn't even care what your old game-mates would think of you leaving?"

Vanellope shook her head, her ponytail flapping wildly. "No…" she breathed. "No, I didn't mean it like that! ... _You_ were the one who told me I had to follow my dream!"

"And _you_ were the one who _had_ that dream to begin with," Shank volleyed in return.

" _I made a mistake!"_ Vanellope screeched.

"And now it's too late to fix it, isn't it, Vanellope?" Shank said heavily, shaking her head. "Come on, _Slaughter Race_ is where you belong now. We're the ones who can protect you. You're just as much a part of this game now as we are. Felony and Pyro already saw to that - your code block's in the system, good and permanent. Because what happens if your little candy friends won't take you back? You're gonna end up wandering the Internet and risk getting deleted for good? Admit it, Vanellope, this is the safest place you've got…"

She leaned an inch away from Vanellope's reddened face, squinting in anticipation, like a lion playing with its food. And then, from behind her…

"Um, well, actually…"

Everyone turned to glare at Pyro. He fidgeted with his goggles and glanced at the floor.

"Actually _what_ , Pyro?" Shank demanded. "You _did_ get her code block, right?"

Pyro nodded hastily. "Oh yeah, definitely, absolutely…" Then he covered his mouth with his hand. "Sort of…"

Vanellope recoiled. " _Sort of?!"_

"Okay, look," Pyro jabbered, "I Google searched as best I could, but nobody had the original source code for _Sugar Rush_ , y'know? All I could find was some fan-made game mod from like five years ago that ran on the same engine _Slaughter Race_ does, so I, y'know...snipped the Vanellope code out of that and plugged it in. Same diff, right?"

Shank grabbed Pyro by the shirt, her unflappable demeanor suddenly crumbling. " _NO_ , it is _NOT_ the same diff, Pyro! That's not her original code! She's still vulnerable without it! You could have _killed_ her!"

Vanellope gasped, stumbling backwards against the folding chair.

All those times she crashed her car in the past month...all the melee weapons that players had tried to take her out with...just now, when her car flipped over and pinned her to the pavement…

 _I could've died._

And that was the last straw for her. She wasn't safe in _Slaughter Race_. Not from anyone.

With Shank still distracted, Vanellope glitched for the door. The squad all lunged at the sound of the VOOP.

" _Vanellope!_ " Shank cried. " _STOP! Don't go out there, it's dangerous!_ "

Of course it was. But it was the only way out.

In another flash of pixels, Vanellope was on the other side of the door. She glitched away down the street as fast as her code would carry her.

Shank wrenched the garage door open. The squad burst out into the waning early evening sunlight. It was too late. Vanellope was long gone.

"She could've glitched anywhere!" Little Debbie groaned. "How are we gonna find her on a map this huge?"

Shank breathed hard through her nose. "We aren't," she said heavily. " _They_ are."

She whirled around to face Felony. Already Felony seemed to know where this was headed - her phone was out and ready to hack.

"Tap into the game files, Felony," Shank commanded. "Put up a notification to all players."


	5. Chapter 5

" **IT'S A SUGAR RUSH!**  
Vanellope Von Schweetz is on the loose! Track her down, round her up, and return her safely to Shank's garage for your shot at $500,000 in in-game cash! But only a flawless run counts - so whatever you do, DON'T crash!"

Every _Slaughter Race_ player saw the notification pop up in the lower left corner of their screen. Could it be true? _$500,000?_ That was the highest reward any _Slaughter Race_ mission had ever offered to pay out! And all you had to do was track down that little cartoon candy girl from _Sugar Rush_? Surely, a player would have to be stupid not to take advantage of this golden opportunity...

* * *

Vanellope finally came to rest under the yellowish glow of a streetlamp. A stitch throbbed in her side. She had tried to put as much distance as possible between herself and the garage.

She could have kicked herself. Her mind still reeled from Shank's selfish revelation. _Man,_ she thought, _I can't believe I let a stranger on the Internet lie to me! Who would have guessed?_

Night had fallen, and the eternally full moon was up. Vanellope knew she had a good thirty minutes left to utilize the cover of darkness. If she could just make it to the game's exit point, she'd be home free. Just hop onto the nearest search engine and ride back to her log-off point, and then it was back to the arcade, safe and sound…

...And then what if Shank was right? What if all her fellow racers hated her for abandoning them?

 _No, they wouldn't_ , Vanellope told herself, gripping the lamppost through the sweat of her palm. _That was just Shank trying to manipulate me again…_

 _...Right?_

The more she thought about it, the more it felt like there was something devouring her from the inside out. She _had_ ditched her _Sugar Rush_ friends with nary a word in advance. Ralph had filled them in, obviously, but they must have taken it so hard...and Vanellope had told herself they'd understand. Because Ralph had understood, after all. But she'd never known for sure…

Flashbacks began to kick in. The chocolate junkyard. Rancis, Gloyd, Jubileena, all of them, tearing her hard-built Likkity-Split to pieces. Taffyta hurling vicious words at her, pushing her in the mud, under the sincere belief that she was defending the integrity of the game she called home...defending it from a selfish monster...

 _They do hate me,_ she thought, as much as she tried not to. _If I'd ditched me, I'd hate me too._

The glitches kicked in again as Vanellope struggled to control her shallow breathing. She clamped her hands over her face, trying to block out the lamplight. She had no home in _Slaughter Race_ , and now she was certain she wouldn't be welcome in _Sugar Rush_. All because she'd listened to a stranger and made a stupid impulsive decision, like the dumb little kid she was. She'd dug her own grave. How could things get any worse?

"Hey! There she is!"

Vanellope whirled around. Two player avatars, one male, one female, were running full-tilt across the street towards her. Both of them brandished stun sticks, their tips crackling with electricity.

"Knock her out, quick!" the female avatar squawked. "She'll be easier to kidnap that way!"

With a frightened gasp, Vanellope glitched away. She leapt over a chain-link fence and bounded off the lid of a dumpster into a cracked and crumbling parking lot, where two more players were mindlessly spinning donuts in their cars. One of them screeched to a stop.

"Check it out, dude! It's that Vanellope chick we gotta catch for Shank!"

The avatars hopped out of their cars, brandishing crowbars and burlap bags. Vanellope screamed, then glitched clear across the street. She'd just barely rematerialized when a pair of headlights practically blinded her. She leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being struck by a tricked-out convertible; it screeched to a stop, plowing a mailbox out of the pavement.

"That's her!" the driver shouted. "The _Sugar Rush_ girl! She's mine!"

Vanellope ran full-tilt down the street, trying to escape the mob. Her heart leapt to her throat as an earsplitting horn rent the air. A massive 18-wheel big rig came tumbling down off the nearby overpass, smashing to the ground and knocking telephone poles out of the sidewalk as it tore towards her.

Another glitch, and she shot to the side of a building, zapping up the fire escape in the blink of an eye. Clambering onto the roof, she struggled to catch her breath - then gasped again as the roof suddenly became illuminated by twin beacons from above. A pair of helicopters roared overhead, their searchlights trained on her, the wind from the rotors whipping her ponytail around wildly.

"Lower the winch, dude!" the player in the pilot seat shouted eagerly. "Let's see if we can snag her by the hoodie!"

Trembling, Vanellope glitched away over the rooftops and back down to the streets, faster than she'd ever moved in her life. Anytime she remained stationary for longer than a second, another player avatar made a grab for her.

Finally, she managed to shake them. Ducking into a dead-end alley, she hid behind a dumpster in an empty cardboard box. Shaking, trying not to breathe too hard, she fixed her ears on the sound of the players as they approached.

"I think she went up Bulger Street!"

"Maybe she's inside the blood bank!"

"Screw you all, she probably hopped on that bus over there! And I'm gonna get her!"

"Not if I get her first, you -"

The chatter died away as the mob darted off into the night.

Sweat drenched Vanellope's brow. She ran a hand down her face, trying to stave off the panic and collect herself. What was she going to do? _Every_ player in the game was trying to catch her! There was no way she could outrun all of them!

She needed help. And there was only one way to call for it.

Fingers trembling, she snatched the BuzzzTube communicator from the pocket of her hoodie. She flipped it open and pressed the screen. Muted rings met her ear.

"C'mon, c'mon, Ralph," she whispered desperately. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

* * *

Ralph stared aimlessly out at the world beyond the screen. _Sugar Rush_ blinked excitedly against the darkness of the closed arcade.

"Y'know, when I'm up here, I got the clearest view of that console," he said, leaning on the overhang that lined the roof of Niceland Apartments. "Vanellope used to wave at me whenever she'd see me."

"Bold move," Calhoun said with a wistful grin. She drained the last of her champagne. "Wonder if any players ever noticed."

Felix chuckled, straightening his blue cap. "Oh, those racing game players, they go somewhere else when they're behind that wheel. Probably assumed it was just some cute little idle animation…" He produced a flat square box from behind his back, topped with a red bow. "Can I tempt anyone with a bit of pie? Mary gave it to me as a Christmas gift, but it doesn't seem right not to share it."

Ralph chuckled. "Maybe later, Felix, thanks…" He still didn't have much of an appetite, but he appreciated his friends' generosity all the same. It had been Felix and Calhoun's idea to retreat to the roof to give Ralph some time away from the festivities. Reflecting, it occurred to him just how lucky he was to have them in his life...

He smiled, a sad beautiful smile, turning over the half-medal in his giant hand. It didn't get any easier. But if there's one thing he'd learned, it's that nothing in life worth having was ever truly easy...

Suddenly, a buzzing sound interrupted the trio's reverie. Ralph pulled his communicator from his pocket and flipped it open. There was Vanellope's icon, smiley as ever.

"Hey!" Ralph laughed. "Vanellope's callin'! Must want to wish you guys Merry Christmas or something." He pressed the "accept call" icon. Vanellope's holographic face sprang to life above the screen.

"Hey, happy holidays again, kid!" Ralph beamed. "Long time no -"

" _Ralph!_ " Vanellope interjected. Ralph suddenly noticed how frightened she looked. "You gotta help me, please!"

Fear gripped Ralph's heart. He'd never seen Vanellope this scared before.

"H-Help?" he gasped. "Vanellope, what's wrong?! Where are you?!"

"I'm in an alley somewhere in _Slaughter Race_!" she whimpered. "Shank is _nuts_ , Ralph! She's tryin' to hold me hostage here! She's got like every player in the game hunting for me! I gotta get out of here!"

Felix and Calhoun gasped. "Oh my land!" Felix said in a hushed tone.

Ralph barely had time to process all this. Shank? Holding Vanellope hostage? And after they'd both trusted her?!

"Okay, Vanellope, listen," Ralph said hurriedly, "whatever you do, don't move! Stay there, we're gonna hop on the Internet and come get you! You're gonna be okay, kid, I promise!"

"Bring my kart!" Vanellope yelped. "My kart from _Sugar Rush_! I'm gonna need a getaway car!"

Vanellope's hologram turned at the sound of clattering metal. A voice shouted "She's down here!"

" _HURRY!"_ Vanellope squeaked. And with a beep, she vanished.

Ralph's heart pounded furiously against his chest. There was no time to waste.

"Calhoun, you got your cruiser?"

Scowling in determination, Calhoun reached behind her back and pulled her cruiser off her pack. It dropped to the roof and hovered in midair. "Always, Mountain Man," she said.

Ralph nodded. "All right, then, let's move!" And in one swift motion, he leapt from the roof, plummeting eleven stories and dropping to the pixelated ground with a massive THUD that shook the building.

"Oh my!" Mary yelped in the penthouse, struggling to grip the refreshment table. "This champagne sure packs a wallop, doesn't it?"

Outside, Ralph tore across the bridge toward the exit, Calhoun and Felix soaring behind him on the cruiser.

* * *

"It should still be in good condition," Sour Bill groaned as he wrenched open the gargantuan twin doors to the royal garage. "I took it on myself to flush and change all the fruit fillings."

Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun blinked as the sweet sunlight of _Sugar Rush_ glinted off of Vanellope's icing-caked kart, nestled among the clutter. Everything was just as it had been before the game was unplugged - the hot mess of teal, purple, and chocolate frosting, the stripey Pixy Stix exhaust pipes, the multicolor Gummi Worm tires. And the signature emblazoned in cake icing on the passenger side: " _Made by Vanellope AND RALPH_ ".

Careful not to break anything, Ralph picked up the kart and tucked it under his arm. "Thanks for the tune-up, Bill," he muttered. But as he turned around, he yelped in surprise.

All fourteen racers were standing there in the garage doorway, their karts parked at the entrance to the castle grounds. Each one of their faces bore an expression of curious confusion.

"What's going on?" Candlehead asked, her eyes wide.

Ralph hoisted the kart more securely in his grip. "Vanellope's in trouble," he said quickly. "We gotta go save her, and there's not much time..."

Frightened gasps rippled through the crowd of racers. "Vanellope?" " _Trouble?!"_

"We're coming with you," Taffyta asserted without a moment's hesitation

Felix winced. "Ooh, kids, I don't know if that's a good idea! This _Slaughter Race_ game sounds downright mean! What if you got hurt?"

"Vanellope's our friend," Taffyta said, her lip quivering slightly. "If she's in trouble, we're helping her! Besides, if…" She gulped. "If we'd been better friends to her in the first place, maybe she wouldn't have left…"

Ralph could almost hear his heart break at these words.

"Stand down, troops," Calhoun commanded. "That's an order. The Internet's a place that chews up children and spits 'em out like old gum. You kids are too important to take that kind of risk!"

"Oh, like you aren't?" Rancis insisted. "After how nice you guys were to all of us? We can't let you run off into a game full of explosions and car crashes by yourselves!"

"We gotta keep you safe, Mr. Felix and Mrs. Calhoun!" Candlehead said, her candle flickering wildly. "You were the nicest mom and dad we ever had!...I mean, the _only_ mom and dad we ever had…"

A pair of quiet gasps escaped Felix and Calhoun's lips.

"Besides," Swizzle added, "you're goin' to a racing game, right? You'll need racers. We can hold off anyone who tries to get in your way."

Calhoun rubbed the back of her neck. She seemed to realize the futility of trying to change their minds.

"...This is no kiddie ride mission, y'know. Vanellope's in serious danger here…"

"A- _doyyy_!" Gloyd shouted. "Why do you think we're going?"

"All we need are some power-ups!" Jubileena piped up from the back of the crowd. "Those _Slaughter Race_ goons have never seen Sweet Seekers and Ice Cream Cannons before! They won't know what hit 'em!"

Sour Bill gave a hint of a smirk. "Power-ups, eh?"

He pulled open a nearby cabinet. Dozens of spare power-up boxes spilled out. Ralph goggled as they hovered and rotated inches above the floor.

"Pick and... _chews_ , kids," Sour Bill grinned. With a dry chuckle, he added "A little levity before we all probably die."

* * *

The Surge Protector smiled as he surveyed the bustling festivity of Game Central Station, characters coming and going beneath the twinkling golden Christmas lights and the glittering garland. Christmas carols wafted softly through the peaceful atmosphere. Nothing could disrupt this serene scene. "Finally," he muttered to himself with a rare smile, "peace on earth! ...Or our little corner of it, anyway."

VROOOOMMMM.

Game characters dove for cover as fourteen racers suddenly tore out of the outlet to _Sugar Rush_ , tires squealing on the shiny floor of the atrium. At the front of the line was Ralph, mounted on top of Vanellope's kart and propelling it with his massive hands. Calhoun and Felix flew overhead on the cruiser, Sour Bill clinging precariously to Calhoun's armored leg.

The crowd parted as the bizarre convoy ripped through them, heading straight for the WiFi outlet. Splitting the "DO NOT CROSS" ribbons like string, they zipped one by one through the grounding prong and disappeared, the roar of their engines echoing up the power cord.

The Surge Protector gave a stuffy sigh. "I gotta learn to quit talking while I'm ahead."


	6. Chapter 6

"I found 136,000 results for 'Is it safe for my dog to eat raisins?'" Knowsmore reported. "Glad to see we've learned from the whole avocado incident, dearie."

The block-headed Internet avatar tapped the icon for , and in an instant, a hyperlink transport had whisked her away. Knowsmore leaned on the counter of his website and sighed. "A simple 'thank you' would've been appreciated, you know," he huffed. "Just saving the life of your pet over here, that's all."

A loud disturbance across the hub caught the algorithm's ear. A massive crowd had just landed at the nearby homepage pad - but they weren't regular Internet avatars. Most of them were driving the oddest assortment of vehicles Knowsmore had ever seen. The whole weird crowd, fourteen kids plus a military woman and a carpenter on a hoverboard accompanied by what appeared to be a living olive, drove right up to his website. And at the front, looking harried and unkempt, was a large and all too familiar face.

"Knowsmore!" Ralph huffed, struggling to catch his breath as he dismounted the bizarre candy-coated kart he'd been sitting on. "Man, am I glad to see you!"

"Ah yes, you've returned,"an unimpressed Knowsmore muttered. "The odd-smelling hobo who nearly obliterated our entire community."

"Ralph said you could help us -" Taffyta started, then blinked and shook her head. "Wait, what?"

"Long story, kid," Ralph hissed. He gripped Knowsmore's search hub desperately. "We -"

"Weight Watchers?" Knowsmore autofilled. "Web design? Weird Al Yankovic?"

Ralph's brow furrowed. "Look -"

"Look Back in Anger? Looking for Alaska? 'Look What You Made Me Do', by Taylor Swift?"

" _Vanellope's in trouble and we need to get to Slaughter Race right now!_ " Ralph bellowed, pounding the search bar.

Knowsmore vibrated wildly as search results rattled through him. Finally, he regained his composure.

"I found 273,000 results for 'Vanellope Slaughter Race'," he said calmly. "It would appear your friend is causing quite a ruckus over there, my unruly good man."

From the preview tab, Ralph could see the news headlining the notification about the hunt for Vanellope. "Sweet Mother Hubbard, it's on the front page! Every player's gonna see it!" Jabbing the icon with one fat finger, he held Vanellope's kart high over his head as the hyperlink transport constructed around him, squashing him uncomfortably. "Everyone follow me!" he said, muffled, as the _Sugar Rush_ racers revved their engines.

With a hasty look back at Knowsmore, Ralph blurt out a quick "Thanks, Egghead!" before being shuttled away at top speed. Felix, Calhoun, and Sour Bill shot off behind as the racers tore down the nearest ramp.

"There," Knowsmore huffed contentedly, straightening his mortarboard, "that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

* * *

The moon sunk low in the starless _Slaughter Race_ night sky. A ribbon of hazy light to the east announced that morning was fast approaching.

The streets crawled with player avatars, chatting noisily, melee weapons brandished, all keeping an eye out for Vanellope. Vehicles of all kinds cruised the streets, their headlights beaming - convertibles, utility vehicles, even the occasional dump truck. Helicopters and light airplanes roared by overhead.

"Jiminy jaminy," Felix gulped. "Who would've guessed _this_ many people use the Internet?"

"Nothin' I'm not used to, Babycakes," Calhoun muttered, peering through her binoculars and cradling Felix to her side with her free arm. "Each one of these potty-mouthed pixelheads is just another Cy-Bug, far as I'm concerned. We'll make it through no problem."

Ralph, Felix, Calhoun, and Sour Bill were all concealed behind a rooftop water tower atop a grimy crumbling brownstone. From their vantage point, they could keep a close eye on the famous _Slaughter Race_ aqueduct, where the _Sugar Rush_ racers lay in wait for Calhoun's signal, engines idling softly.

Ralph pulled out his BuzzzTube communicator and tapped Vanellope's icon. She picked up almost instantly.

"Ralph!" she whispered, a relieved smile crossing her frightened face. "Where are you?"

"We're in _Slaughter Race_ , little buddy!" Ralph assured her. "We're savin' your bacon! Where are _you?_ "

Vanellope's hologram crackled slightly as she glitched in fear. "I'm in that little convenience store near the aqueduct, the one with the big stupid clown out front? I locked the door best I could, but I don't know how long the chair is gonna hold!"

Ralph scanned the streets thick with hovering user nameplates.

"It's there!" Calhoun hissed, binoculars pointing south.

Finally Ralph spotted it, on a corner a few blocks from where they were - the head of a tall steel clown statue, worn and rusted, lit up orange by the glow of a streetlamp. Over a dozen player characters were prowling around it.

"I see you!" Ralph whispered. "Stay put, okay, we'll be there soon as we can! We got you, okay?"

Vanellope sniffled. "Thanks, Ralph!" And her hologram vanished with a flicker.

Felix panted heavily. "Eeoh boy, look at all these players and their weapons! Machine guns, rocket launchers, wiffle bats?! And me with just my dinky little hammer?!" He brandished the golden tool, which suddenly felt very wimpy in his hand. "How on earth are we going to drive all of them off?"

Ralph thought hard. It was true - the four of them against thousands of _Slaughter Race_ players? Those were horrible odds. If only they had reinforcements…

And then it came to him.

"I got an idea," he said, punching up another icon on his communicator.

* * *

The door to the office swung open, and Maybe strode in, clutching a buzzing communication device. "Miss, you have an urgent call waiting."

Yesss looked up from her hologram screen, which was displaying a vertical smartphone video of two middle school kids trying to chug a shaker of cinnamon. "Kinda sorta _busy_ here, Maybe, if you don't mind. Gotta see if this Try Not to Laugh Challenge is worth my time…"

"It's from your friend, the heavy-set gentleman with the undulating jowls," Maybe specified.

Heart leaping, Yesss jumped out from behind her desk, fiber-optic fur coat trailing like a cape. "Well, why didn't you _say_ so?" She snatched the communicator out of her assistant's hand and flipped it open. "Ralph, my _man!_ My main man! What's the haps these days, Bigfoot?"

"Yesss!" Ralph whispered. "We've got a situation here! Vanellope's in danger!"

Yesss' perky demeanor vanished just as quickly as it had arrived. "Vanellope? My favorite little pop-up?! What's goin' on?!"

"Y'know your buddy Shank over in _Slaughter Race_?" Ralph went on. "Yeah, well, turns out she's gone just a _teeny tiny_ little bit insane, and she's got every player in the game out huntin' for Vanellope's head on a platter as we speak!"

Yesss' jaw practically hit the floor. " _Are you for real right now?_ " she blustered. "My girl Shank wouldn't pull that kinda junk, would she?"

"It would appear she would, Miss," Maybe said heavily, pulling up several BuzzzTube videos at once in midair. Multiple _Slaughter Race_ players were livestreaming their efforts to track down Vanellope. To Yesss' horror, the hearts were rolling in on each video.

Yesss squeezed the communicator so hard, it almost cracked. " _UGH!_ " she spat. "You really _CAN'T_ trust anyone you meet on the Internet, can you?!" She whirled back around to Ralph's hologram. "All right, Fumble-Fingers, you tell me what you need me to do to help you and your little buddy, and I got your humongous back! That's a promise!"

Ralph furrowed his brow in determination.

"Yesss," he said, "I need the biggest pop-up army you've got."

* * *

"We haven't searched the convenience store yet!"

"Yeah, good idea! C'mon!"

A pair of player avatars sprinted across the dark street, dodging passing cars as they made their way to the big metal clown. They had no idea how good their guess was, how close they were to the frightened little girl they were hunting down, huddled under a counter lined with cigarette packs and lottery tickets, struggling to keep herself from automatically glitching out of danger…

The players drew their tasers. "So, which one of us gets the $500,000?" the male avatar asked, jumping in place awkwardly.

"Well, obviously me," said the female avatar, turning jerkily to face her friend. "I mean, what do _you_ need to buy? You've already got a solid-gold G6. Stupid thing doesn't even fly…"

KPSHOOO.

The pavement at their feet cracked apart as a blast of hot plasma narrowly missed the two players. "WHOA!" the male avatar yelped. "What the -"

They whirled around. There, hovering two stories above the street on a sleek black antigravity cruiser, silhouetted against the distant early morning glow, was another player avatar - at least, they figured it had to be. She was decked out in heavy black armor, her short blond bangs hung over her fury-lined eyes, and she had a massive plasma cannon aimed directly at the two players. Behind her, wearing an orange-visored helmet, was a tiny green ball with a face.

" _KEEP YOUR GRUBBY LITTLE PAWS OFF THAT STORE, CHICKADEES!"_ she bellowed. " _UNLESS YOU'RE FIXING TO SHOW YOUR SPLEENS A LITTLE SUNLIGHT FOR A CHANGE!"_

"Dude!" the male avatar yelped. "That's Sergeant Calhoun! When did they add _Hero's Duty_ skins to this game?"

"Who cares?" the female player responded. "Kick her butt! You've got a tommy gun, don'tcha?"

Nodding, the male avatar whipped his range weapon out of his inventory and pointed it at Calhoun. "Suck lead, siste-"

KPSHOOO.

The male avatar exploded in mid-sentence. His tommy gun clattered to the ground next to the chalk outline that remained of him.

"Jeez!" the female avatar shouted. "One-hit kills? This chick is OP!"

Without a word, Calhoun trained her rifle on the female avatar and vaporized her too. More players began to converge on the convenience store, wondering who was sniping all these avatars, only to get shot back to the title screen for their trouble.

Calhoun didn't let up. " _Get rekt, scrublords!"_ she hollered.

Sour Bill squinted through Calhoun's visor in confusion. "What?"

"I don't know," Calhoun whispered, "it's something I heard the kids at Litwak's say." She turned back to the crowd below. " _360 no scope! Too pro!_ "

Every player who got close to the convenience store ended up exploding for their trouble. The fracas was just distracting enough that nobody noticed Ralph and Felix sneaking towards the back of the building, pushing Vanellope's kart.

* * *

Vanellope glitched harder than ever. Her code was screaming at her to get out of there, away from the explosions and shrieking outside...but where else could she go? Nowhere, until Ralph arrived. Assuming he could make it through that sea of killer avatars out there…

 _He's fine,_ she tried to convince herself. _He's_ fine. _You'll be back home before you know it…_

WHAM.

Vanellope gasped, peeking up from behind the counter. Something had slammed into the double back door, rattling the chair she'd shoved under the handles. The players had found her. She was dead for sure.

Another WHAM. Then a third - and the doors exploded off their hinges.

" _RALPH!"_

Vanellope had never been more relieved to see him in her life. He stumbled in, pushing her familiar old candy kart with both giant hands. Felix bounded alongside, his golden hammer brandished.

"Vanellope!" Ralph beamed. "You're all right! Felix, fix that door, quick!"

"Easier done than said, brother!"

With a tap from Felix's hammer, the doors rematerialized in their frame, locked and secured.

Vanellope leapt from under the counter and wrapped herself around Ralph's giant neck in the biggest hug her little body could manage. "Holy hotcakes, kid," Ralph wheezed, "am I ever glad to see you…"

Then he noticed the dampness on his shirt. To his shock, Vanellope was bawling her eyes out.

"Ralph…" she choked. "Ralph, I'm so sorry…"

Tenderly, Ralph picked up Vanellope with one hand and tried to stem her tears with the other. "Sorry? S-Sorry about what?"

Vanellope gulped, her eyes blotchy and red. "I made a mistake!" she sobbed. "I abandoned my game! And-and Shank lied to me, and now all the racers back home hate me, and I s-s-screwed everything up for everyone!" She collapsed against Ralph's chest again, burying her face in his shirt. "Ralph...I just wanna go home…"

Suddenly, Ralph was acutely aware of the stinging wetness in his own eyes.

"Hey, hey, sshhh… c'mon, Vanellope, it's okay!" he said softly, patting her head with a hand the size of a couch cushion. "We're gonna get you home, no problem, all right? There's nothing to worry about - we got Felix with us, and Calhoun, and you know who else?"

Vanellope blinked up at him through her tears.

"All your _Sugar Rush_ friends are here," Ralph assured her. "Taffyta, Rancis, Candlehead, Sour Bill - all of them! They all wanted to come along and help rescue you. They don't hate you - they were worried about you! We all were…"

Vanellope sniffled, her eyes widening. "R-Really?" she whimpered.

"Hey, would I lie?" Ralph said with a grin. "But we're all here now, and we're gonna get you back in your game safe and sound, and you're gonna kick the butt of anyone who tries to keep you where you know you don't belong. And you know why?"

Vanellope wiped her nose. "Why?"

Ralph grinned, pushing more tears from his eyes. "Because you're a winner."

A smile crept across Vanellope's face. "...I'm a winner."

"And you're adorable."

"I'm adorable!"

"And what does everyone love?"

" _Everyone loves an adorable winner!"_ Vanellope shouted, leaping around the room. She laughed, tears glistening as she bounced, more energetic than she had been in weeks.

"Hey, I heard her!" a voice called from outside. "I think she's in here!"

Ralph, Vanellope, and Felix all froze. The sound of trampling footsteps grew closer.

"Okay, pep talk's over!" Ralph said hastily. "Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

Vanellope leapt into her kart. Ralph hopped onto the vanilla wafer spoiler on the back, tucking his arms in. Brow furrowed in determination, Vanellope jabbed the ignition button.

The kart sputtered, but didn't start.

"Oh, c'mon!" Vanellope groaned. "Nobody drove this thing in the month I was gone?"

An explosion of tinkling glass caught their ears. Player avatars were at the window, crowbars and wrenches in hand, trying to break in.

"Back, you unwashed rabble!" Felix declared chivalrously, leaping onto the shelves. "Why don't you go play something the whole family can enjoy?"

With the skills that only 36 years of continuous platforming gameplay can provide, Felix hopped from landing to landing, hammering every broken window back into place. Every time a player smashed another one, he fixed it before they could get in.

Vanellope pounded on the ignition button. The engine whined, struggling to turn over.

"Give it some gas!" Ralph offered. "Pump the brakes! Put it in neutral! I don't really know what I'm talking about!"

"GUYS!" Felix shouted. "They're bringing in the heavy artillery!"

Ralph looked up. The players at the window scattered as a bright blue convertible drove headlong towards the convenience store, modified engine sticking through the hood, a cloud of dust trailing behind. The avatar in the front seat was heavily customized, burly with a shaved head and countless tattoos.

With one heavy arm, Ralph grabbed Felix and tucked him close to his side. "Hold on to your hammer, buddy!" he warned.

Gritting her teeth, Vanellope hauled back and punched the button as hard as she could.

VROOOOMMMM.

Gummi tires squealing, Ralph and Felix hanging on for dear life, Vanellope ramped off a discarded case of beer in the middle of the floor and caught air, shooting through the glass front door in a hail of shards and metal fragments, out into the freshly minted morning sunlight. She clattered onto the parking lot, drifting around in a 180-degree turn just as the player's car smashed through the fragile wall of the store. Felix goggled at the wreckage, clutching his cap in alarm.

"SIR!" he called huffily to the player behind the wheel. "I _do_ believe that's a no-parking zone!"

Up above, Calhoun whooped in relief at the sight of the escape below her. "You tell 'em, Sugarcakes!" she shouted over the deafening patter of her gunfire. "Vanellope, Ralph, what an exit!"

The burly player backed his car out of the wreckage of the store, lining up for another shot at Vanellope's kart. "Come here, hotshot!" he snarled through his fuzzy in-game microphone; his voice was clearly that of a small kid. "I got a date with five hundred grand!"

"Pssh, yeah, like _YOU_ could get a date, loser!" Vanellope jeered. As the player's car tore at her, Vanellope glitched, Ralph, Felix, and all, to the other side of the parking lot.

"Whoa-ho," Ralph coughed, clutching his head. "That's just weird…"

The player's tires screamed as he spun donuts over the store debris, flattening other avatars in an attempt to run down Vanellope. But every time he got close, she glitched away.

"Don't you have homework or something, kiddo?" Vanellope laughed, spinning to a stop. Ralph and Felix tumbled off, still slightly disoriented by the constant glitching.

"Homework _bites!_ " the player shrieked, whipping out an intimidating range weapon. It bore a strong resemblance to Calhoun's plasma cannon, and it crackled with blue electricity; it looked extremely advanced.

Ralph lunged in front of the player's car, protecting Vanellope. " _You leave her alone, pint-size!"_ he bellowed, his hands balled into boulder-sized fists. " _You can't have her!"_

Players around the parking lot twitched, looking confused. "They put _Fix-It Felix Jr._ skins in here too?"

"I'm level 75, butthead, I can have anything in this game I want!" the player taunted, charging his weapon. "What are you gonna do about it, Hobo Joe?"

CRUNCH.

The player tumbled into the backseat as Ralph, his eyes livid, his face twisted in fury, grabbed the front of his car with both massive hands, crumpling the hood like paper. He began to spin on the spot like a champion hammerthrower, the player cursing in protest as he whirled.

" _I'M...GONNA..._ _ **WRECK IT!**_ "

He let go, and the car went flying halfway across the city. The player's screams dwindled into nothing as he tumbled through the air alongside his precious vehicle. In the distance, they both exploded against an overpass.

Vanellope leapt in her seat and cheered. " _Sweet mother of monkey milk, Ralph! That was AWESOME!"_

Ralph rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Thanks, kid...I kinda surprised myself a bit on that one…"

Sour Bill rolled to safety as Calhoun brought her cruiser down for a landing. She leapt off and smothered Felix with kisses. "That was some real hot footwork in there, Sugarcakes!" she gushed. "You never cease to amaze me!"

"Aw, shucks, Honeybunch," Felix blushed, "just doin' what comes natural…"

The player avatars observed the bizarre scene before them. _Sugar Rush_ , _Fix-It Felix Jr._ , _Hero's Duty_...what kind of crossover event _was_ this?

"So, are the Fix-It Felix and Hero's Duty guys part of the Vanellope mission?" one confused player asked, jerkily swinging his wrench at the air.

"I dunno, I guess," said another, jumping in place. "I think we have to kill 'em all before we can catch her or something."

The first player switched weapons, stowing his wrench and producing a sawed-off shotgun. "Well, if you say so!" he laughed remorselessly. "I always thought that Felix guy was kind of a tool!"

Ralph blanched, throwing himself in front of Vanellope. Sour Bill hid behind Calhoun and Felix as the crowd advanced. Cars were tearing up the street towards them. Helicopters descended from the sky.

And then…

"New on BuzzzTube! The funniest Try Not to Laugh Challenge yet! How long can _you_ last?"

"GameGeekGary55 plays Season 7 of _Fortnite_! Watch what happens next!"

"The latest episode of Dopey Dubs is here! You've never heard 'Orange is the New Black' like _this!_ "

Blue-skinned pop-ups were springing up all over the _Slaughter Race_ map, stopping players in their tracks. They danced around, brandishing their ads obnoxiously. Cars skidded off the road as players struggled to see where they were going.

"What the- since when do I get pop-ups _inside_ the stupid game?!" one player griped. He moved to close the ad - and the grinning pop-up mischievously jerked it to the right at the last second, so the player poked the ad itself instead. Immediately, a transport cube closed around the confounded avatar, whisking him away out of the game.

Ralph and Vanellope looked around in amazement as more players vanished, their accidental clicks transporting them directly to BuzzzTube. Others flailed wildly, trying to escape, but more and more pop-ups materialized around them, smothering them, blocking their every move. The air was thick with sales pitches and the cacophony of crashing vehicles. Helicopters plummeted from the air, erupting into flames on rooftops.

"Good one, Yesss!" Ralph cheered, pumping his massive fist. "I knew she wouldn't let us down!"

"We'll have to thank her later!" Vanellope giggled. "C'mon, guys, let's skate!"

Ralph leapt back onto the kart as Vanellope peeled out of the ruined parking lot. Calhoun, Felix, and Sour Bill soared behind on the cruiser.

But as they cut through the tangled crowd of players and pop-ups and rounded the corner, arriving on the street that ran parallel to the aqueduct, they hit the brakes.

Shank and her entire crew were waiting for them at the end of the street, engines roaring hungrily. At the front of the pack was Shank herself, eyes steely, shades perched atop her wild hair, her crimson vehicle glinting in the morning sun.

Sour Bill gulped. "Is this what you'd call the boss fight?" he groaned.


	7. Chapter 7

Ralph had the sudden furious urge to leap off the back of Vanellope's kart and smash that shiny red muscle car into a scrap metal pancake. His eyes narrowed in betrayed wrath at the woman he'd trusted to look after his best friend.

"No one has to get hurt, Ralph!" Shank shouted over the rumble of the engines. "Just give us Vanellope, and we'll keep her safe! We promise!"

Vanellope made a noise halfway between a laugh and a spit. "See, I know _Slaughter Race_ isn't too big on enforcing laws and all that fun stuff, but as a politician, I'm pretty sure 'kidnapping' and 'safety' are two mutually exclusive concepts!"

Shank sneered, her eyes wild and desperate. " _Don't make this difficult, Vanellope!_ We can still find your code block out there somewhere! This is where you're needed most of all! You're still a part of this family!"

Calhoun laughed, cocking her sidearm. "Family?" she shouted back. "You wanna talk about _family_ , Leadfoot? _We'll_ show you family!"

And with a squeeze of the trigger, she fired a spectacular red flare high into the yellow hazy atmosphere. It whistled and erupted like a firework.

It was the signal the racers had been waiting for.

The sheetmetal fence lining the aqueduct splintered to pieces as fourteen candy karts ripped through it, the entire _Sugar Rush_ team revving and ready to defend their friends. They sailed through the air, landing on the pavement and drifting around Shank's squad in an intimidating circle. Every juvenile driver's face wore an expression of smug courage.

Vanellope pounded the gas and tore straight for Shank. Eyeing the racers for an opening, squinting through the dust their wheels were kicking up, Shank charged out of the ring right back at her, engaging a ninety mile an hour game of chicken. Vanellope swerved off down a side street at the last second, Ralph clinging tightly to the spoiler, and Shank spun out in a rage.

Behind Felix and Calhoun, player avatars were beginning to break through the swarm of pop-ups. Cars revved from all directions as players converged on the spot, eager to capture their promised reward.

" _Hack another notification, Felony!"_ Shank screamed above the din. " _One MILLION dollars for ANY of the Sugar Rush racers!"_

Felony jabbed at her phone screen. The racers scattered their karts as another wave of players drove through the fray. Smoke, dust, and vaporized rubber clouded the scene. Pop-ups continued to spring up everywhere, diverting players off-course. It was utter pandemonium.

One player tore down the side street after Vanellope, his convertible bouncing over potholes. Crumbelina and Snowanna split off from the rest of the racers, coming to their friend's defense. They downshifted, overtaking the player swiftly.

"So I hear you guys missed me, huh?" Vanellope shouted as Crumbelina and Snowanna pulled up alongside her kart.

"Hey, _Sugar Rush_ isn't the same without our favorite glitch!" Crumbelina grinned.

Something exploded off to the right. The player avatar was lobbing hand grenades, desperate to cripple at least one of the vehicles in front of him.

" _Kid!_ " Ralph shouted. "I think this guy's got exploding eggs!"

"Yeah, well, _we_ got something sweeter!" Snowanna chuckled, pressing the power-up button on her dashboard.

A gigantic spring-loaded ice cream scoop unfolded from the back of Snowanna's kart, loaded up with a massive rainbow ball of shaved ice. With a snap, it went flying towards the pursuing car. The familiar _Sugar Rush_ announcer voice intoned exuberantly from seemingly nowhere: " _FREEZING 'FRO!"_

The avatar yelped as the ice landed on his head, pounding him into the seat and giving him the appearance of having a colossal multicolor afro. His car slowed to a crawl, the body scraping on the pavement.

Crumbelina unleashed her own power-up. Three huge iced cinnamon buns tumbled out of the back of her kart, rolling like boulders. " _CINNAMON ROLLERS!"_ shouted the announcer voice. The sticky buns collided with the convertible, knocking it off the road and into a storefront, which promptly exploded for no reason.

Snowanna and Crumbelina cheered. But their celebration was cut short - as they approached an intersection, two more cars tore out of nowhere and attempted to collide head-on with the young racers. Vanellope and Ralph swerved to avoid them, careening westbound toward the restaurant district; Crumbelina and Snowanna spun out as the invading cars slammed on the brakes. The player avatars leapt from behind the wheel, crowbars drawn, ready to pummel-

And then proceeded to blow up, as Calhoun, Felix, and Sour Bill swooped in on the cruiser. Calhoun stowed her smoking rifle as she brought the board down to the pavement.

"You kids all right?" she asked hastily, as Snowanna and Crumbelina trembled.

"Not for long, they won't be!" Sour Bill yelped, his jellybean hands flailing.

HONK HOOOONK.

A mammoth dump truck came bearing up the street, a maniacal female avatar at the wheel. "Say goodnight, Sarge!" she laughed. Calhoun gasped, throwing herself in front of the girls.

" _NO, MA'AM!"_

Felix leapt bravely forward. Whipping his Christmas pie out from behind his back, he popped it out of the box and swallowed it in one gulp. Instantly, his cap shimmered and gleamed, and his entire body took on an invincible sheen. Defiant, he raised one hand to halt the vehicle.

CRUNCH.

The entire front half of the dump truck crumpled like a paper bag as it collided with Felix's outstretched arm. With a CLANG, the player avatar vaporized back to the title screen.

Felix wiped his brow, still glistening with the effects of his temporary invincibility power. "Whoo!" he gasped. "Glad I saved that pie for later, after a-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled as Calhoun yanked him off his feet and pulled him into the deepest, most passionate kiss of his life. Crumbelina and Snowanna turned away, giggling. " _Eww!_ Barf!" they laughed.

* * *

Vanellope shot through downtown, engine screaming, Ralph doubled up against the wind. He turned his head at the sound of blaring horns.

Shank's crew careened out of a side street onto the boulevard behind them. The four NPCs' faces were twisted in ugly sneers, meaner than any player had ever seen.

"Sounds like we got a few unwelcome guests comin' to visit!" Vanellope shouted.

"It's okay, I got it!" Ralph called back. "You keep your eyes on the road, kiddo!"

Butcher Bob pulled up on Vanellope's left, his tire-shredding razor wheels whirling dangerously close. With one mighty fist, Ralph punched Bob's vehicle, knocking it away like a bowling pin; it spun out and collided with a streetlamp. Little Debbie pushed a button, and her grappling hook sprang out from under the grill, launching towards Vanellope's rear bumper. Ralph caught it inches before it could penetrate, then pulled it taut like a fisherman reeling in a haul. Debbie's car skidded all over the road. With a crack on the grapple line like a whip, Ralph flung Debbie's car off the road and through the front window of a Kickin' Chicken restaurant.

Felony and Pyro pulled up behind, on either side. Pyro readied his twin flamethrowers. "Ever wondered what temperature sugar melts at?" he shouted madly over the engines. "You wanna find out?!"

Growling, Ralph lunged, clamping both hands firmly onto Felony and Pyro's hoods. He slammed both cars together and let go, watching them tumble end over end. A tire flew out of the metal heap, straight for Ralph's head; he caught it just in time, holding it like a foul ball.

"Do we need this for anything?" he shouted.

"Nah!" Vanellope grinned. "I already got four of those!" Ralph tossed the tire away over his shoulder as Vanellope put the pedal to the floor.

* * *

A few blocks away, two players were in hot pursuit of Taffyta, Rancis, and Candlehead. The chase rounded a corner, down a street that ended with a gas station.

" _A million bucks!_ " one player avatar screamed, his face calm and expressionless as ever. "I never liked this dumb candy racing game anyway!"

"Ugh, that is _so_ mean!" Taffyta scoffed playfully. "Rancis, teach this guy some manners!"

Smirking, Rancis punched his power-up button.

" _PEANUT BUTTER BOOMERANG!"_

Three peanut butter cups shot out the back of Rancis' kart, spinning through the air like buzzsaws. Two clipped off one player's driver-side rearview mirror; the other two smashed both windshields, obscuring the players' vision.

"Dang it!" one player moaned. "How do you get out of first-person view? I forgot!"

In a flash, Taffyta unleashed her own power-up - " _SPRINKLE SPIKES!"_ A torrent of bright magenta spikes poured across the road, glistening like sugar. Both players drove blindly through it, shredding their tires to bits. Skidding on their rims, the two cars knocked into each other and off the road, crashing headlong into the gas station. Gasoline pooled on the ground beneath their crippled vehicles.

The players scrambled to get out, only to see Candlehead drift to a stop right in front of them, at the outer edge of the gas puddle.

"Happy birthday!" she grinned cheekily. "Make a wish and _blow up_ the candles!"

She revved her engine, and a plume of sparks and flames shot from her exhaust pipes, igniting the slowly spreading puddle. " _HAPPY BIRTHBLAZE!"_

Candlehead tore away as the gas station erupted in a fiery explosion behind her, eliminating both players. "Hee hee!" she giggled as she caught up to Taffyta and Rancis. "I've always wanted to try that!"

"Remind me never to steal _your_ candle," Rancis said with mock apprehension, as the three of them roared off to rejoin Vanellope.

* * *

Vanellope and Ralph zoomed beneath a highway overpass. Above, a player in a customized drop-top spotted them.

"Sweet!" he hissed. "Cool million, here I come!"

But before he could head for the highway exit ramp, two tiny candy karts drove up and parked a hundred yards in front of him. Jubileena and Adorabeezle stood up, pulling faces at the player and sticking their tongues out.

"Nyah-nyaah!" Adorabeezle taunted merrily as Jubileena blew a raspberry. "You can't catch us, loser!"

The player avatar let loose a static-ridden battle cry that pushed his headset mic to the limits. Tires squealing, he bore down on the two girls; they revved and shot straight toward him. Any second now, the crash would happen…

Adorabeezle punched her power-up button. A long ice cream cannon popped out of the hood.

" _NOW!"_ Adorabeezle shouted.

She and Jubileena split off to swerve around the player just as the ice cream fired from the cannon. The player skidded to a stop in disbelief.

" _A LA MODE!"_

Two tons of ice cream came splattering down on the player's car, slamming it into the highway so hard that the axles broke. Smoke billowed from the engine as the player struggled to emerge from under the freezing mountain.

Adorabeezle and Jubileena rejoined each other behind him. "And what's a sundae without a _cherry_ on top?" Jubileena teased, launching her own power-up.

" _FIRECRACKERS JUBILEE!"_

A barrage of red fireworks shot out of Jubileena's kart. They homed in on the player's ice cream-covered car, exploding it in a shower of cherry hearts and frozen dairy splatter.

Leaning out of their karts, Jubileena and Adorabeezle high-fived each other before heading for the nearest off-ramp.

* * *

" _CANDY CORN ROCKET!"_

Gloyd's cart bounced mischievously as an arsenal of candy missiles shot forth, bombing three players' cars out of his path. On either side of him, Swizzle and Minty launched their own power-ups to clear the convoy that blocked their getaway.

" _RAINBOW LANCE!"_ the voice cheered, as Swizzle's kart shot into the car before him with the force of a rocket, flipping it end over end through the air. " _SOUR APPLE GRENADE!"_ it shouted again, as Minty lobbed a handful of candy apples at two players tearing out of a nearby parking lot; their cars automatically reversed and spun in circles, bashing into each other.

"Ha!" Gloyd laughed, holding onto his pumpkin hat as they approached a sharp corner with a tall building. "These losers aren't so hard!"

But as the three racers cut the corner, they saw what had been concealed behind the building. A player had parked their 18-wheel big rig just out of sight, its rear door open and the loading ramp down. Gloyd gasped, with no time to react, as he drove straight up the ramp into the trailer.

" _Gloyd!_ " Swizzle and Minty yelped in unison.

The trailer door slammed shut. "Awesome!" the player shouted from the driver's cab. "I got one!"

The big rig hauled away, with frighteningly quick acceleration for such a big vehicle. Teeth gritted in fury, Swizzle gave chase, pulling up next to the truck and pointing lividly at the player.

" _That's my best friend you've got in your truck!_ " Swizzle screamed. " _Give him BACK!_ "

Minty's eyes practically bugged out as the player avatar gave Swizzle a rude gesture that would certainly never have been programmed into _Sugar Rush_.

"YOU ASKED FOR IT, BUDDY!" Swizzle roared, producing a length of licorice rope from beneath his dashboard - the safety rope he'd carried on his and Vanellope's expedition up Soft-Serve Summit.

"Swizzle, _no!_ " Minty shrieked.

"Swizzle, _YES!_ " Swizzle responded, tossing the licorice like a whip; it caught the big rig's rearview mirror. Tying the other end to his steering wheel, Swizzle scurried up the rope commando-style, shattering the driver-side window with a furious headbutt from his hard candy hat.

The player did a double-take. "What the-"

" _You stole my friend, you jerk!_ " Swizzle bellowed, leaping into the cab and pummeling the avatar in the face with his tiny fists. " _And STEALING! Is NOT! BEHAVIOR! BECOMING! Of a HERO!_ "

He kicked the avatar out of the passenger-side door, where he tumbled to the pavement, squashed by the wheels of his own truck. Swizzle hit the door release and dived out of the still-moving vehicle back into his own kart; Gloyd raced out of the trailer, free again, rejoining his friends.

"Dude!" Gloyd beamed. "What'd you do?!"

"Nothin' that Mrs. Calhoun wouldn't have done," Swizzle said with a smirk, cutting the licorice rope free.

* * *

Vanellope and Ralph came barreling around a corner, just yards ahead of a four-kart convoy of racers - the Palette Swaps, sticking close together to cover the entire width of the road.

"We got your backdoor, Vanellope!" Sticky shouted over the roar of the engines. "Nothing's gonna get through us!"

CRASH.

A chain-link fence behind them clattered to ribbons as a monumental green army tank ripped through it, turret rotating wildly.

"Okay, except maybe THAT!" Nougetsia squealed in terror. Everyone pounded the gas - but as the Palette Swaps were notorious for being the slowest racers in _Sugar Rush_ , that didn't mean much. The tank was actually gaining on them.

Even Ralph couldn't believe his eyes. "Okay, can someone help me out here and tell me one crazy thing this game _DOESN'T_ have?!"

"What power-ups did you guys get?" Vanellope called.

"Sweet Seekers!" Torvald yelped. "They were the only thing left! But they only shoot forward!"

"And something tells me they're not strong enough to get through a tank!" Citrusella whimpered.

Sticky furrowed her brow. "One isn't...but four at once might be!"

She turned to her fellow racers, hair bow whipping wildly in the wind. "Listen to me! On three, we're all gonna do a one-eighty reverse drift and hit him with the Sweet Seekers!"

Nougetsia blanched. "But I never got the hang of the one-eighty reverse drift! What if I screw it up?!"

"You won't!" Vanellope assured her. "Just remember what I told you! Turn _away_ from the skid, not into it!"

Lip quivering, Nougetsia shut her eyes and repeated it to herself. "Away from the skid... _away_ from the skid…"

A mortar shell exploded yards away. The tank was closing in.

"One!" Sticky bellowed. "Two! THREE!"

Vanellope and Ralph tore away as all four Palette Swaps spun around in unison, tires screeching, Sweet Seeker cannons emerging from their hoods. Pointing directly at the tank, they fired.

"SWEET SEEKER!"

The explosion nearly blew Citrusella and Nougetsia's hats off. The tank flew a good fifty feet in the air, flipped over, and crashed back to earth in a crumpled heap. A faint CLANG told them the player avatar inside had been eliminated.

Nougetsia couldn't believe her eyes. "I did it…" she laughed. " _I did it! I finally drifted!_ Oh my gosh, I can't _wait_ for the next Random Roster Race -"

Her celebration was cut short as a shark unexpectedly popped out of a nearby manhole, teeth gnashing. All four racers screamed in shock.

"Let's just focus on getting everyone the heck out of _this_ game first, okay?!" Torvald squeaked as they all drove off after Vanellope.

* * *

Pop-ups were still swarming the map, forcing every player off the streets as Vanellope and Ralph sped through. High above, Calhoun and Felix kept watch on the cruiser, Sour Bill clinging on with all his might and trying his best not to look down. The _Sugar Rush_ racers kept an eye on them, as a checkpoint to locate Vanellope.

Finally, the group converged, reuniting in a long chain of vehicles - Vanellope at the front, her entire team of fellow racers behind - tearing up the road that led to the game exit. Calhoun and Felix swooped down, covering the rear.

"I count fifteen!" Felix said. "All present and accounted for!"

"Perfect!" Calhoun grinned. "Let's get our butts out of this godforsaken asphalt jungle and never look back!"

Sour Bill tugged at Calhoun's weapon belt. "Actually, Mrs. Soldier, I think you _might_ wanna look back for just a second…"

Felix and Calhoun gasped. Shank was gaining on the racers, flanked once again by her squad, their cars fully respawned and repaired. Shank was low in her seat, hands high on the steering wheel, stone faced and more dangerous than she'd ever looked.

At the front of the convoy, Vanellope glanced back. "Dang it!" she shouted. "Two-faced weasels at six o'clock!"

"It's that early already?" Ralph said, confused.

"Shank's right behind us!" Vanellope clarified. "Don't worry, though, we're in the home stretch now!"

No sooner had she said it than the big rig-driving player, freshly respawned, pulled up out of a side street, blocking the exit point with his truck. The karts were a hundred yards away and closing fast, just seconds from smashing headfirst into the trailer…

The player avatar laughed. "Now I gotcha, you little snot-faced morons!" he shouted.

Vanellope grinned mischievously. "I know you are," she chuckled, "but what am I?"

VOOP.

To the player's utter disbelief, Vanellope glitched her kart and Ralph straight through the big rig trailer. They sailed through the exit portal without a scratch.

From behind, Calhoun guessed exactly what Vanellope's plan was. She steadied her plasma rifle and took aim.

KPSHOOO.

The shot was dead-on accurate, blasting a massive hole through the trailer. One by one, all fourteen _Sugar Rush_ racers jumped through the smoldering chasm, passing safely out the exit.

"You ready with that hammer, Sugarcakes?" Calhoun shouted, crouching low as the cruiser picked up speed.

Felix brandished his golden hammer, spinning it like a six-shooter. "Don't you worry, Snoogumbunches!" he said with a smirk. " _I can fix it!_ "

As soon as the last racer had passed through, Calhoun flew the cruiser low towards the exit, and with pinpoint accuracy, Felix tapped the roof of the trailer with the hammer in the split-second they were over it. With a shimmer, the trailer became whole again - just as Shank's crew came bearing down on it.

Felony, Pyro, Butcher Bob, and Little Debbie's faces all fell. "Oh, _motherf-_ "

KABOOOOMMM.

Four souped-up cars collided with the big rig, erupting in a perfectly spectacular explosion that shook the surrounding buildings. A gargantuan fireball plumed into the sky, orange and billowing.

And out of the center of it flew Shank's immaculate car, saved by a perfectly timed jump. Scowling, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard it could've snapped, Shank drove headlong through the exit portal, unfazed by the fiery wreckage of her friends' vehicles, possessed by the drive of a madwoman with only one objective:

 _Don't let that kid log off._


	8. Chapter 8

Out into the game hub they flew, Vanellope, Ralph, and the entire squad, horns blaring, sending square-faced 'Net avatars scurrying for safety. They dove down the imposing staircase that led out to the Internet world, tires rumbling on the jagged decline.

From behind, Vanellope heard an all-too-familiar engine roar. She glanced back - Shank was out of the game, still gaining on them.

"Guy-y-y-ys!" Vanellope stuttered, bouncing as her tires battled with the stairs. "We-e-e got-t-t com-m-mpany-y-y-y!"

Seconds later, they came barreling out into the bright electric blue streets of the Internet. Calhoun and Felix's cruiser soared high above, narrowly dodging a line of hyperlink transports, as the racers spun out on the slick ground, trying to regain their bearings.

"Back to the homepage, kids!" Calhoun bellowed, Sour Bill still clinging desperately to her ankle. "This way!"

Vanellope and Ralph flailed as the racers around them took off. With a gasp, Vanellope saw Shank burst out of the game hub entrance, landing directly in front of them.

Finally, traction returned, and Vanellope hit the gas hard. Shank tore up behind, gaining on them. They weaved through the crowd of virtual Netizens, the website structures around them becoming a blur.

Shank's eyes flashed with fury as she drew inches away from Vanellope's rear bumper. "I don't know if you picked up on this yet or not, Vanellope," she snarled, "but _I don't like to lose!_ "

Her finger hovered over a button on her dashboard - a button that would unleash a boost of nitrous into her engine. The speed boost would be more than enough to ram Vanellope off the road. Vanellope and Ralph winced, preparing for the worst…

But instead, it was Shank's car that jolted, its rear wheels bouncing off the ground as a massive airborne craft flew in low and plowed it from behind. Skidding to the side, losing speed, Shank glanced up furiously and recognized Yesss' personal transport, soaring just yards above the concourse, Maybe at the wheel.

Ralph and Vanellope cheered. "Way to go, Yesss!" Vanellope laughed, punching the air triumphantly.

Drawing level with the driver's side of Shank's car, the craft dipped 45 degrees starboard, and Yesss lowered her window, giving Shank a steely judgmental look. "Y'know, Shank, honey," she called over the rush of the wind, "I told everyone you were real deal cool, but kidnappin' kids? Sorry, but I'm gonna have to unfriend you."

" _I NEED HER, YESSS!"_ Shank screamed, all pretense of her unflappable demeanor completely lost.

"No, you need to _chillax_ , is what you need," Yesss smirked. "I think someone oughta show you a little bit of love."

And with a mischievous grin, she produced a handful of heart upvotes.

Shank's eyes widened. "No-"

"HEART!" Yesss squeaked, doling upvotes liberally out the window. "Heart, heart, heart, heart, heartheartheartheartheart…"

The hearts clung to Shank's face; she struggled to get them off, spitting and flailing. More covered the windshield, obscuring her vision. Her car weaved back and forth drunkenly as Yesss' craft pitched upward.

Struggling to see, Shank jerked the wheel to the left, drawing dangerously close to a long line of Internet avatars. One wandered blissfully away from the crowd, directly into the path of Shank's out-of-control car.

THUMP.

* * *

Miles away, Miranda Sings' Internet connection cut out again.

"UGH!" Miranda frowned. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

* * *

Windshield wipers squeaking, Shank ripped the hearts out of her face. The racers were gaining ground away from her.

Ralph squinted into the distance. "There's the homepage hub!" he shouted, pointing energetically. "If we can just lose Wonder Woman here, we'll be golden!"

But that was easier said than done. Shank hit the nitro boosters, and her car roared, speeding ahead like a metallic demon. She closed in on Vanellope's kart.

"Aw, _come on!_ " Ralph growled. "Can't anything ever just be easy for once?!"

Vanellope glanced up ahead, at the ramp that led to the homepage. Up above, an email delivery train wound its way through the paths of hyperlink transports.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Ralph!" she called. "Take over, buddy!"

Ralph gulped. "Wait, Vanellope, what are you gonna do?!"

She smirked, her ponytail whipping behind her. "I'm gonna make her put the brakes on for a change."

With a VOOP, Vanellope glitched out of the driver's seat. Ralph hastily began propelling the kart with his hands as Vanellope rematerialized yards above, on top of a moving hyperlink transport. Jumping from cube to cube, she shut her eyes and glitched again, onto the nose of Yesss' craft.

"Thanks for the assist, Yesss!" Vanellope called through the windshield.

Yesss lowered her stylish shades and grinned. "You go get 'em, girl!"

Another VOOP, and Vanellope glitched higher still, onto the front cab of the email train, a good ten stories above the chase. She steered it directly over her kart. From high above, she could see Shank was getting closer. She had to time this just right…

Climbing over the back of the cab, between it and the first freight car, Vanellope hung on with both hands, placing one foot over the coupling that held the cars on.

With a final glance down at Shank, she snickered.

"You've got mail!"

She kicked with all her might, and the coupling came undone. The train of freight cars plummeted to the ground, digital letters fluttering away into the wind.

WHAM.

The cars smashed into the concourse, just feet behind Vanellope's kart. Shank barely had a second to react.

She swerved hard to the right, trying to avoid the crash. Tires screaming, she skidded uncontrollably across the slick Internet floor, eyes wide with shock.

With a teeth-chattering _crunch_ , Shank's beloved car collided with an advertisement kiosk. Shank flew out of the driver's seat, thrown clear, landing in a tumbling heap at the edge of a balcony.

Breathing hard, she looked up into the distance just in time to see Vanellope glitch back into her kart. "Shank you very much, _sister!_ " she giggled, as she and her fellow racers disappeared up the ramp to the homepage.

"NO!" Shank cried in desperation. "COME BACK!"

And as she watched them all escape, as she saw Yesss' craft lift off into the sky victorious, she felt a hand pluck the sunglasses off the top of her head. Recoiling in shock, she whirled around.

A long, sweater-wrapped arm retracted into her car. Gord placed the sunglasses on his bulbous head-like stump as J.P. Spamley hopped behind the wheel.

"Thanks for the sweet ride, Shanky ol' pal!" Spamley grinned, cocking his hat jauntily to the side as he backed the vehicle up. "This oughta fetch us a pretty penny or a billion! C'mon, Gord, let's go shopping for that antivirus software we've had our eyes on!"

And as the crimson muscle car peeled away, Shank winced, punching the ground in humiliating defeat.

* * *

With a self-important nod, the Surge Protector re-secured the last strip of "Do Not Cross" tape over the WiFi outlet. "There!" he said, turning to face the patrons of Game Central Station who'd stopped to watch him work. "And I hope nobody _else_ gets the bright idea to go racin' around where they don't belong!"

He froze as the sound of revving engines grew steadily closer.

Video game characters dived out of the way as the entire _Sugar Rush_ crew burst through the freshly repaired tape, their kart tires squealing to a halt on the sleek power strip floor. Calhoun and Felix's cruiser soared overhead as Ralph leapt off the back of Vanellope's kart. Vanellope brushed her hair out of her eyes, a thoroughly relieved smile plastered to her face.

Her fellow racers bounded from their karts, screaming in celebration. Swizzle and Gloyd clapped hands and pulled each other into a grateful bro hug, while Jubileena and Adorabeezle jumped for joy, totally unable to contain themselves. "WE DID IT!" Jubileena cheered. "THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS _EVER!_ "

Vanellope tried to catch her breath as she looked around. All the familiar faces, the transistor benches, the towering electrical outlets adorned with holly and wreaths, the twinkling Christmas decorations that lined the golden ceiling like a finely decorated cake…

She was home.

No sooner had she begun to truly process it than Taffyta, Rancis, and Candlehead smothered her with appreciative hugs. Within seconds, all fourteen of her fellow racers had gleefully piled in, their jubilant chatter almost impossible to discern.

"Whoa, hey, c'mon!" Ralph chuckled, parting the sea of kids with his massive hands. "We just saved the kid's life, let's give her a little bit of breathin' room here!"

Taffyta smiled dearly at Vanellope, her eyes damp with tears. "Vanellope, we are _so, so_ sorry for making you leave!" she gushed in all sincerity. "We should've been better friends to you! We didn't mean to bore you or annoy you or anything like that!"

Vanellope blinked. "Wait a second, _what?_ No, no, guys, you got it all wrong…"

Scrambling a bit, she hopped up onto the hood of her kart, looking around at her friends.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing here," she began, her voice cracking slightly. "You guys didn't drive me away, don't even think that junk - I love you guys to bits, and I always will. I just…" She sighed. "I just goofed up, that's all. I thought I was bored with this whole arcade scene, I thought a new outlook would shake things up for me and make me feel better… But after six years of livin' the good life, I guess I'd forgot just how lucky I really was to have all the really cool stuff I had…"

She glanced up, beyond the crowd, at the outlet to _Sugar Rush_ , decked out in its sparkly green wreath. "Like a great game where I get the chance to make players happy every single day…"

She smiled down at her fellow racers, several of whom were wiping tears away. "Or a buttload of wicked awesome friends who I get to share that game with, who love racing just as much as I do…"

Finally, she turned around, grinning up at Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun, who all smiled right back.

"And you guys. Who are always there for me, and sacrifice so much to keep me safe and happy. I'd do anything for you guys, you know I would."

Vanellope blinked back her tears. "Ralph, you big galoot, you're the greatest friend a dork like me could ever have. Felix, Calhoun, you two are just the sweetest, and you always got my back. I could never skip out on you guys...you're more than just friends..."

She gulped as the tears finally began flowing freely. "You're like my family. And for cryin' out loud, y'know, family should never have to be apart on Christmas."

Laughing through his own tears, Ralph knelt down and swept Vanellope up into a giant secure bear hug. "You don't know how great it is to have you back, Vanellope," he said softly.

Vanellope chuckled. "Eh, I think I got a _little_ bit of an idea."

Calhoun wrapped a tender arm around Felix's little shoulder. "See, Sugarcakes? I told ya we could handle this parenting stuff like champions."

"When you're right, you're right, Snoogumbunches," Felix beamed through blushing cheeks as he snuggled up to his wife.

The Game Central Station atrium rang with applause as Vanellope leapt up onto Ralph's shoulders, waving to everyone she recognized. The _Sugar Rush_ racers erupted into cheers again, jumping up and down in exhilaration.

A lone tear rolled down Sour Bill's unchanging half-lidded face. "Darn it," he drawled in his usual monotone, "the holidays always get me so emotional…"


	9. Chapter 9

At exactly 12:01 AM on December 25, _Sugar Rush_ saw its annual snowfall commence at last. Within seconds, the ground was thick with pure white powdery ice cream, glistening smoothly as it lined the lollipop trees and gumdrop mountains. The blue cola rivers froze solid, and steam rose from the hot chocolate and caramel springs in merry little curlicues.

It was the day the racers looked forward to more than any other. Gifts were exchanged, snowballs were thrown, candy canes were feasted upon, and Vanellope invited every character in the game to a boisterous Christmas party in the castle. A massive candy cane tree decorated the foyer, glittering with spun sugar tinsel and tiny gummi ornaments.

Everyone gathered in the main hall for a sugary feast, after which Wynnchel and Duncan conducted _Sugar Rush_ 's bear claw police force in their yearly chorus of Christmas carols. All the racers were sprawled around the sitting room, reveling in the festivity - Taffyta, Rancis, and Candlehead playing with their new toys, Swizzle and Gloyd sketching plans for the snow fort they were aiming to build, Crumbelina and Snowanna praising each others' fashionable new hats and scarves, the Palette Swaps regaling Jubileena, Adorabeezle, and Minty with the harrowing tale of the perfect drifts they'd all executed…

And at the far end of the room, by a roaring Hot Tamale fireplace, were Ralph, Felix, Calhoun, and Vanellope, bundled up in cushy fruit leather armchairs. Sour Bill carried in a tray full of steaming hot cocoa mugs for each of them. The sound of the policemen's holiday chorus, the melodic strains of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", washed over them like a soothing blanket.

 _Through the years, we all will be together  
_ _If the fates allow..._

"Nice to have a day off from work every once in a while, isn't it?" said Felix as he blew on his cocoa, looking quite festive in the red-and-green sweater Calhoun had knitted him.

Calhoun turned away from admiring the shiny mahogany gun rack that Felix had built her to hold all the new weapons that the recent _Hero's Duty_ DLC had brought. "After all we've been through, I'd say we earned it," she said, smiling warmly at her husband.

Ralph hastily pulled a misshapen box out of his pocket. "Oh, hey, can't forget about this!" he said, kneeling down to the floor where Vanellope sat, slurping her cocoa as loud as possible. "I got you a little something, kid! ...Ah, sorry about the wrapping, I'm still not that great at it…"

Vanellope didn't mind. She gleefully tore the brown wrapping paper off, revealing a small red toy replica of her candy kart, roughly hewn out of a brick, with lumpy wooden wheels drilled into the sides.

"Felix kinda gave me a little help with the tools," Ralph said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hope you like it, kiddo…"

Vanellope beamed up at Ralph. "I _love_ it! Thanks, Chumbo!" She tucked her hands behind her back in a show of childlike innocence. "And, uh, I got something for you, too...it's nothing too special, but since the only stuff I coulda bought in _Slaughter Race_ was lame junk like rocket boosters and grenade launchers, it's the best thing I could think of…and I didn't really have time to wrap it or nothin'..."

Ralph smiled his dopey elated smile. "Well, what is it?"

Vanellope grinned. "Well, there's one more thing you should know about it - there's some assembly required."

Reaching down the front of her hoodie, she produced her half of the broken cookie medal.

Ralph's eyes widened in understanding. He pulled his own half out from beneath his plaid red shirt. Slowly, he held it up against Vanellope's half, so that they formed the full phrase again at last: " _You're My Hero"._

"Felix?" Vanellope asked. "Would you do the honors?"

Wordlessly, smiling broadly, Felix produced his golden hammer from his hip holster. He gently tapped both halves of the medal.

With a glimmer, the medal became whole again. Vanellope jumped up and placed it back around Ralph's neck. Ralph couldn't help but chuckle as he held the cookie in his hand, running his huge fingers across the raised icing.

Vanellope swayed eagerly on the spot, one leg tucked coquettishly inward, as she smiled up at her best friend in the world. "Merry Christmas, Stinkbrain," she said softly.

Ralph hastily tried to dry his eyes as he let the medal rest proudly against his chest. "Merry Christmas, President Fart-Feathers."

* * *

Wednesday the 26th saw the usual influx of kids into Litwak's Arcade, on break from school and eager to convert their Christmas money into quarters. But the arcade regulars were in for an extra surprise this time.

"All right! Vanellope's back!"

"For real? Aw, sweet, she's my favorite!"

"Man, that's a relief - I was startin' to think the game was broken or something!"

The line for _Sugar Rush_ didn't seem to diminish all day, as the players had the time of their lives zapping all over the track with Vanellope's glitchy power-up ability. And it wasn't the only hot game of the day - _Fix-It Felix Jr._ and _Hero's Duty_ raked in the quarters too, mostly among kids who had online accounts with _Slaughter Race_. The Great 2018 Christmas Eve Crossover Crisis, as it would come to be known in the _Slaughter Race_ fandom, had jumpstarted a resurgence of interest in all three of the games it had featured. (When asked whose idea it had been, the _Slaughter Race_ development team had no idea what anyone was referring to and simply had to chalk the mysterious event up to an extremely devoted and talented hacker.)

"Would you look at this?" Mr. Litwak chuckled as he unloaded _Sugar Rush_ 's quarter tray at the end of the evening. "$36 in one day?! And here was me worried that this game was on its last legs!"

"Hey, everyone loves that game," one of the arcade employees intoned, pushing the carpet sweeper behind the _Tapper_ console. "'90s nostalgia is very hot right now."

Standing up, Mr. Litwak stroked his chin. "Y'know, back when there were two cabinets and kids could race against each other, this game was even bigger," he mused. "If it keeps rakin' in this kind of cash, maybe I oughta see about ordering a replacement for that twin I had to chuck out way back when…might be a worthwhile investment!"

"Who do you know who's got one of those?" the employee asked, interested.

Mr. Litwak smiled. "Fella on eBay wants about a grand for one. Y'know, I'm really starting to dig that website - you find all sorts of neat stuff on there!"

* * *

From atop the roof of Niceland Apartments, the _Sugar Rush_ racers all buzzed with excitement.

"You hear that, kids?" Felix chirped, his arm around Calhoun. "You might be gettin' your old second cabinet back soon!"

"As long as Baroness Booger-Face here keeps kickin' butt in those Random Roster Races, right?" Ralph boomed, tousling Vanellope's hair playfully and dislodging a few stray candy bits.

Vanellope gave a theatrical salute. "Not a problem, Admiral Underpants!"

"Speaking of which," Rancis interjected, "after tonight's race, what are we all gonna do?"

" _Anything!_ " Vanellope beamed, hopping up onto Ralph's shoulder. "This is a big arcade, there's no routine we gotta follow! We make our _own_ fun, isn't that right?"

"Right on, sister," Ralph said with a grin, bumping his fist against Vanellope's.

Calhoun cuddled Felix close as Swizzle and Candlehead milled playfully around her knees. "And y'know, if - and that's a _big_ if - you ever _do_ get bored, there's always that WiFi outlet. What ol' Blue-and-Baldy doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

Taffyta gulped. "Wait, seriously? I thought we just proved that the Internet is a death trap for kids like us!"

"Eh, it's not _all_ bad!" Ralph said. "Vanellope, what was that you were tellin' me about that Oh My Disney place?"

"Yeah, I didn't even get to show you guys!" Vanellope squeaked, bounding off Ralph's back and onto the roof. "It's _bonkers_ over there! They got princesses and spaceships and superheroes and grumpy donkeys, I _gotta_ bring you all someday!"

"You're not worried about what could happen to you?" Minty asked, her eyes wide. "I mean, what if you run into that Shank lady and her friends again?"

Calhoun and Felix smiled at the racers. "Hey," Calhoun smirked, "first off, the Internet's a pretty darned big place, and second, if you pint-sized petit-fours think we'd let you all run around the Internet _unsupervised_ , without Mama Bear and Papa Wolf over here to keep you covered, then you got your racing helmets on too tight."

"That's right," Felix nodded, twirling his hammer. "I'd like to see any of those _Slaughter Race_ hoodlums try to start anything with us again! _Nobody_ , online or off, messes with _this_ family!"

The racers all giggled.

"Besides," Ralph added, pulling out his BuzzzTube communicator, "we got good ol' Yesss on speed-dial. She's lookin' out for us." He extended a hand so Vanellope could hop playfully into his palm. "When you know what you're doin' and who you're talkin' to, the Internet's not such a scary place after all, is it?"

"Aw, heck no!" Vanellope agreed, leaning comfortably against Ralph's shaggy unkempt head. "It's a nice place to visit…"

She stared lovingly out through the screen of _Fix-It Felix Jr._ at the bright pink console she called home.

"...But I wouldn't want to live there."


End file.
